


Cast me gently into morning, for the night has been unkind

by Merrily_Merrily



Series: Cast Me Gently [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar II Disorder, Coming of Age, Demisexual Yuri Plisetsky, Demisexuality, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Family, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Pansexual Jean-Jacques Leroy, Romance, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unplanned Pregnancy, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 83,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrily_Merrily/pseuds/Merrily_Merrily
Summary: With so much riding on Yuri’s success, winning gold is his only option going forward. He has too much to prove. Anything less than perfection is unacceptable.Following a flawed victory at the Barcelona Grand Prix Final, Yuri finds himself struggling under the weight of expectation, as he battles his own personal demons and manages a deepening feud with figure skating’s biggest star.Loneliness was never supposed to lead Yuri to JJ, but it does.Desperation was never supposed to turn into panic, but it does.Yuri was never supposed to break, but...





	1. Tiny Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> I only used the JJ/Yuri relationship tag because that's the only relationship that's going to take prominence in this story, but there'll be plenty of mentions of canon Viktor/Yuuri and JJ/Isabella, plus maybe some background Leo/Guang Hong and Mila crushing on Otabek. But this story also isn't just about Yuri's relationship with JJ; there'll be some of his developing friendships with Otabek and Yuuri, too. More characters than are tagged will show up, I just restricted my tagging to who will probably be the most important ones.
> 
> Prepare yourselves for a lot of angst and a seriously slow burn. I plan for this story to span from the 2015 GPF to the 2018 Winter Olympics.
> 
> The title for this fic comes from the song "Answer" by Sarah McLachlan.
> 
> I've rated this fic Mature because there will eventually be sexual content. Don't expect it for a while, though!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri’s win at the Grand Prix Final doesn’t bring him the sort of pride or happiness he thought it would.

 

“But, oh, how it feels so real,  
Lying here with no one near,  
Only you, and you can hear me  
When I say softly, slowly…  
  
Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer.  
Count the headlights on the highway.  
Lay me down in sheets of linen.  
You had a busy day today.”

\- [“Tiny Dancer” by Elton John](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Al8UHnjusq0)

* * *

 

Yuri doesn’t entirely understand why tears flood his eyes at the end of his program. One moment, he’s holding his final pose while gasping for air, then he’s on his knees on the ice with his hands over his face.  

His heart is pounding — not the normal hard _thump-thump-thump_ he’s come to associate with overexertion. This beat is uncomfortably fast and accompanied by intermittent flutters that make him cough between sobs. He thinks it might stop if he can just get his breathing under control, but his lungs feel like they’re being squeezed tight. There’s a heavy, relentless pressure against his chest. He’s choking on nothing while hot tears stream down his face, and he’s trembling so much he’s not sure if he can stand.

But he does. He has to. Yuri climbs onto unsteady feet. He wobbles twice before he’s able to find his footing. Then he forces himself to go through the motions. He manages a tight smile. He lifts his arms to wave. He can’t hear the crowd but he knows they’re cheering, and he wonders, vaguely, why he feels more afraid than gratified.

He leaves the ice feeling nauseous and faint. Yakov hands Yuri his skate guards and Lilia helps him into his jacket. They both say something to him, but he doesn’t truly hear them and he won’t remember their words later. Lilia has an arm around Yuri’s shoulders as they make their way to the kiss and cry. If he could see through the light-headedness and the tears, he would notice that her eyes are wet, too.

_200.97_

It’s enough.

It should make him happy. He should feel elated. Yakov and Lilia are. They both hug him tightly enough that he would have lost his breath if he weren’t already so breathless. The crowd is cheering again, but the noise sounds muffled and distant. Yuri puts every last shred of awareness he has left into keeping a straight face. His heart’s still racing, and the nausea rises higher and higher into his throat until he’s sure he’ll be sick.

There are reporters and camera flashes. There are shouted congratulations from dozens of different voices. There are questions. Yakov and Lilia are speaking again, but Yuri can’t be sure if they’re talking to him or to one of the several figures that gather around. Yuri turns away to conceal his trembling and sees Yuuri Katsuki a few meters off. Yuuri is watching him. That steady, dark-eyed stare worsens the pressure against Yuri’s chest.

The fear and the helplessness are all-consuming. Yuri makes a hasty escape before Yakov or Lilia can stop him. He finds a bathroom and stumbles into one of the stalls, where he falls onto his knees again and gags over the toilet.

He’s dizzy and hot. He should feel cloistered and cramped in the stall, but there’s a disconnect between Yuri and his surroundings. Nothing feels real — not the cool rim of the toilet beneath his hands or the hard tile against his knees. When his stomach is emptied, Yuri chokes and coughs and gasps. He thinks he might pass out. When his vision starts to go dim around the edges, Yuri slumps over and sets his forehead against the toilet.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, and he doesn’t know what it is that finally helps him catch his breath. Eventually, the short gasps deepen and become more even. His heart rate begins to slow. The overwhelming heat recedes. He feels cold and numb once it’s gone, and he huddles further into his coat in search of warmth.

Once he thinks he’s stable enough, Yuri flushes the toilet and climbs onto his feet again. He presses a hand against the wall of the stall to help support his weight. Exhaustion settles over him then, as oppressive as the fear that brought him here.

Otabek is standing by the line of sinks when Yuri turns out of the stall. He holds a wet paper towel, folded into a neat rectangle. Yuri takes it when it’s offered and brings it to his face. He mops the sweat off of his forehead, wipes the remnants of vomit from his mouth, and scrubs at the tears drying on his cheeks.

“You okay?” Otabek asks him in Russian.

Yuri knows he should answer in the affirmative even if all evidence points to the contrary. He’s just won his first senior Grand Prix Final. The victory is a narrow one, but he’s done what he set out to do. He’s broken a world record in the process — _Viktor’s_ world record — and he’s kept Yuuri one step lower on the podium. He should be overjoyed. He should be savoring the moment, not hiding away in the bathroom struggling beneath the burden of dread.

But victory doesn’t feel as satisfying as Yuri imagined it would.

He feels tears flood his eyes again. Tears of anger, and frustration, and sadness. He’s more and more confused by each new layer of emotion. Yuri shakes his head. It’s a short, erratic movement. His breath stutters in his throat. The part of him that still cares about his dignity wishes he wouldn’t cry in front of Otabek, but he’s already collapsed and sobbed on the ice in front of thousands of people — in front of the whole world. This seems less humiliating by comparison.

Otabek doesn’t say anything else. Neither does he step forward to crowd Yuri. He simply opens his arms and waits. Though it hurts Yuri’s pride, he doesn’t spend much time resisting. He fists his hands into Otabek’s jacket, leans in to Otabek’s shoulder, and he lets Otabek hold him while he cries.

A tiny voice in Yuri’s head tells him that he should feel ashamed to be crying in the wake of his win, to feel so disappointed and unfulfilled when he’ll soon climb onto the podium and accept his gold medal while Otabek receives nothing. Between the two of them, he knows that it is Otabek who should be feeling discontent, and Yuri who should be offering encouragement and support.

Instead, Otabek offers his shoulder, and he holds Yuri’s weight, and he says nothing to betray the calm, patient look that’s fallen across his face. It’s something a friend would do, and they’re supposed to be friends now, aren’t they?  They made a pact — the two of them against every other annoying asshole who takes the ice — and Otabek’s holding up his end of it with a stoic sort of serenity that Yuri finds oddly comforting.

Otabek’s not much taller than Yuri, but he’s stronger and sturdier. He’s warm, and Yuri sags on his feet and curls into that open kindness. Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into Otabek’s collar, and he lets the careful control he’s always had over his grief and his apprehension slip even further. He hates that he’s become so emotional at such a pivotal moment in his career, but fear and desperation have sunk their claws in deep.  

Ignoring it has become painful. He’s reached his limit. He can’t handle any more.

“Sorry,” Yuri mumbles when he thinks he’s composed enough to speak.

“For what?” Otabek asks.

“Crying like a fucking brat.”

Otabek sighs through his nose, but he doesn’t sound irritated. It’s an empathetic sigh, the sort people make in understanding.

“You’re tired,” Otabek says.

And Yuri knows he doesn’t mean the regular sort of fatigue that comes with too much activity. This exhaustion is soul-deep. It saps his strength and leaves him feeling like an empty shell, like everything that makes him who he is has been sucked out of him and shattered beyond recognition.

Yuri’s throat closes up around a response, so he nods instead.

Otabek’s arms tighten, and he says, “I’ve been tired, too.”

They stand together in silence after that, seeking and offering comfort. Eventually, Yuri’s hands loosen their hold on Otabek’s jacket and he throws his arms around Otabek’s neck instead.  

It should be awkward. The last few days have not offered them the chance to know one another as well as they will in the next few years. It shouldn’t feel as welcoming as it does. Yuri’s not usually one for physical contact; Otabek doesn’t strike him as the type either. They’ve both spent so long standing at a distance from everyone around them that they’re not sure how to interact with other people when circumstances call for it.

Yuri in particular has known too much unkindness in his life, too much disappointment and pain. He’s wrapped himself in bitterness, and he’s forced down every last drop of affection and compassion, because not giving a shit is easier than caring too much. He learned that at an early age, when the world first showed him how unfair it could be. He doesn’t quite know how to accept comfort, nor does he have any idea how to give it.

He wonders how Otabek learned. Was it family?

That thought makes the ache in Yuri’s chest tighten.  

He sags against Otabek even more. In spite of everything, the hug feels right. It makes Yuri feel secure. He’s spent so long taking care of himself, he’s nearly forgotten what it’s like to rely on another person. Otabek is stable and real, and Yuri doesn’t feel like he has to hide from him.

Yuri considers how things might have been different if he’d had this before, if Otabek hadn’t waited five years to finally approach him.

Lilia comes through the bathroom door a while later. If she’s surprised to see Yuri clinging to Otabek, she doesn’t show it. Then again, she’s already grilled him over that stupid article about the Russian Fairy riding off with the Hero of Kazakhstan.

“Yuri,” she says. “The medal ceremony.”

Yuri nods and begins to pull away, but Otabek’s arms stay around him until Yuri can stand steadily on his own. Then Yuri wipes the remaining tears from his face while Otabek wets another paper towel for him. It’s cool against his burning cheeks and swollen eyes. Yuri does what he can to conceal all evidence of his breakdown. No doubt there are already countless pictures of him crying on the ice circulating around the internet. He has no desire to offer the opportunity for more.

Lilia approaches. There’s no indication that she ever had tears in her eyes, but Yuri can see that her features have softened. She lifts a hand to cup the side of his face, and she looks into Yuri’s eyes with that piercing stare of hers. Her impassivity is a front. Yuri knows it when her fingers gently brush a loose lock of hair out of his face. She’s proud of him, and Yuri thinks it runs deeper than a teacher’s pride in her student. She might be a bitter old hag, but there’s a tenderness beneath her severity that Yuri recognizes, because the grim way she faces the world while concealing her every weakness reminds him of himself.

Suddenly, Yuri wonders if that means he’s well on his way to becoming a bitter old hag like her.

The thought makes him vaguely ill for reasons he’s unable to explain, except that Lilia seems so cold and alone, and sometimes Yuri feels _so tired_ of being alone.

“Come,” she says. She tucks another loose strand of hair behind Yuri’s ear. “You can rest soon.”

Yuri takes a deep breath to settle his nerves, then nods.

It’s more difficult than it should be, but with Lilia leading the way and Otabek next to him, Yuri finds the strength to leave the bathroom and return to the ice.

* * *

Being up on the podium is a strangely lonely experience.

Even with the boisterous crowds all around, even with Yuuri on his right and JJ on his left, Yuri feels incredibly isolated. Though the center podium is a familiar place from his days competing at the Junior level, he’s never felt as young and as insignificant as he does now. Yuri’s unsure why he should feel that way when his win, though narrow, is hardly insignificant, but the feeling persists throughout the entirety of the ceremony. He’s sandwiched between two more experienced skaters — one who very nearly beat him, and another who might have if not for a disastrous short program — and Yuri is suddenly very afraid of them both.

Not as people. They’re both annoying yet entirely harmless off the ice. But they’re terrifying as competitors, because they both have a strength and a stamina that Yuri lacks. He had to push himself beyond his limits to get where he is now, and he’s not sure it’s something he can continue with determination alone. Since Moscow, he’s felt like he’s been going too fast. He’s heedlessly thrown himself further and further ahead, hurtling closer and closer to the inevitable crash.

The gold medal that’s draped around Yuri’s neck feels far too heavy for something so small. Yuri has a sudden, irrational fear that it might strangle him, tighten until he can’t breathe again.

The crowd is cheering. There are cameras flashing in every direction. The ceremony itself isn’t long, but reality seems to slow for Yuri, and the minutes drag by like hours.

He makes an effort to keep his face neutral. He’s not really the type for forced smiles. They always look too strained and unnatural on his face, so he avoids them when he can. Neutrality is better under the circumstances, or it would be if his neutral expression didn’t make him look angry. The muscles around his eyes feel tight. His brows are furrowed. He knows his mouth is turned down at the corners, but it’s all he can manage with his emotions in such turmoil.

When it’s time to climb off of the podium, Yuri finally looks to his right and tries to catch Yuuri’s eye. They’ve not said a word to one another. They don’t speak much in the midst of competition to begin with, but the silence between them today has been more tense than usual. Yuri wonders if the feeling is one-sided. Yuuri is smiling. He’s clearly found a level of joy in silver that Yuri hasn’t even found in gold.

Yuuri makes his way toward Viktor, and Yuri has to fight down another wave of nausea.

A hand appears to help him down from the podium. Distracted, Yuri takes it on instinct. His mind is blank as he steps off. He’s vaguely aware of several more camera flashes, but he’s too busy watching Yuuri’s slow retreat to pay attention to anything else.

The fingers around Yuri’s hand are long, and the palm beneath his is warm and broad. Yuri snaps back to awareness when his hand is squeezed. It feels a bit like comfort, but all of the people he’s used to receiving comfort from are waiting for him off the rink.

He turns, and JJ is there.

Shock and mortification struggle to break through the numb feeling that fell over Yuri as he left the bathroom. At any other time, Yuri would have snatched his hand away the moment he realized JJ was helping him. Instead, Yuri feels rather lost and disoriented. He stands there and he stares dumbly as another wave of anxiety rises into his throat.

It’s JJ who lets go of his hand. Unlike the previous two occasions they’ve shared a podium together, there’s not a trace of the shit-eating grin Yuri’s used to. JJ doesn’t wink at him, doesn’t smirk at him, doesn’t look as if he has any intention of mocking him. Now, JJ’s smile is amiable, and his eyes seem genuinely warm.

“Congratulations,” JJ says.

Yuri wishes he could shove his win in JJ’s face, flaunt his gold medal like he would have done earlier if he’d managed to beat JJ in Moscow. He’s been itching to knock JJ down a peg since Skate Canada, since the very first time JJ showed him that smug look and made Yuri feel at least ten times smaller. Yuri wants to be a petty bitch about it now, wants to mock JJ’s short program, wants to call him names and fling insults into JJ’s face — make him feel as frustrated as Yuri’s felt with every sound defeat.

But Yuri can’t do it, and he doesn’t really know why.

He knows it’s not pity. He didn’t feel a shred of it when JJ choked, and he doesn’t feel it now. The only thing Yuri recognizes about his tangle of emotions is fear, because he’s been afraid since before he took the ice for his free skate. He’s not sure why it’s lingered for so long, why it’s only grown worse since he received his score. His throat is tight with it, and his nerves are on edge. He has to curl his hands into fists to hide their trembling.

Yuri swallows heavily, but his voice still cracks when he forces himself to say, “Thank you.”

JJ’s smile grows wider, warmer, and when he motions for Yuri to head off of the ice before him, he says, “Go ahead.”

There’s no smarmy “ladies first” this time, no exaggerated gestures. The lack of harassment makes Yuri feel a bit off-kilter. He glares because he doesn’t know how else to respond, and he stalks away before JJ can get another word in.  

Yakov, Lilia, and Mila are there to hug Yuri when he steps off the ice. Mila loops her arms around his waist and lifts him up. She spins him around in circles like he weighs nothing. Yuri lets her because it’s something she’s always done, and he craves the familiarity when everything else about the day has felt so peculiar.

Yuri catches sight of the others when Mila sets him down. JJ is back with his parents. Phichit Chulanont is taking a selfie with Christophe. Otabek is talking with his coach, but he’s not very far away, and he looks over at Yuri every once in awhile, like he wants to make sure Yuri’s calm enough to remain among the crowd. Yuri desperately wants to leave, but he knows he won’t be satisfied until at least a small portion of his anxieties are put to rest.

He finds Yuuri with Viktor. The sight of Viktor frays Yuri’s already rattled nerves, so he ignores him completely and focuses all of his attention on Yuuri instead. Yuuri stares back at him with the same intensity Yuri saw on his face earlier.

They’re not really rivals, no matter how angry Yuri’s been, or what sort of stories the press might like to spin. Yuri knows that. He thinks Yuuri might know that, too. They ceased being rivals after Onsen on Ice, when Yuri decided he didn’t need Viktor’s influence to win, didn’t _want_ it, when he decided to become something _beyond_ Viktor rather than another version of him.

Yuri’s not certain what he and Yuuri are now. They haven’t worked that out yet, but there’s a part of him that hopes they might have the chance.

Like many of the thoughts and feelings swirling around in his head, Yuri doesn’t understand why he should care, why he should feel hopeful. He’s confused by the distress and distressed by the confusion, but he knows that he doesn’t hate Yuuri. He’s wanted to hate him, but hating someone who won’t return the favor is too exhausting to keep up.

“Are you retiring?” Yuri asks, and it comes out sounding as strained as everything else he’s said recently.

Yuuri looks at him for a little while longer. Whatever Yuuri sees brings a small smile to his face, and he says, “No.”

Yuri’s breath shudders through him. A bit of the tension in his shoulders dissipates. He feels relieved, but he hides it beneath a gruff response. “I’m going to break your record.”

Yuuri’s smile grows a little wider when he says, “I know.”

He says it with kindness, but with certainty, too. It’s an honest reply, and Yuri thinks Yuuri might actually look forward to seeing it.

Yuri doesn’t know what to say after that. He shifts on his feet awkwardly. He knows what other people might do in this situation. They would shake hands or hug, but Yuri doesn’t know if he wants those things, if _Yuuri_ wants those things, so he stands back and he meets Yuuri’s level stare and he lets the silence spread between them.

Phichit is the one who breaks it. He pleads with them all to join him for a group picture. Phichit and Yuuri, friends for several years already, stand in the middle. Christophe and JJ take one side, while Yuri ends up between Yuuri and Otabek on the other.  

Two different arms find their way around Yuri in a loose embrace. One drapes over his shoulders, and the other circles his waist.

With threads of fear still twisting through his brain, Yuri thinks the close proximity should be overwhelming.

But it isn’t.

It feels safe.

* * *

By the time Yuri makes it back to his hotel room, the exhaustion has become unbearable. He responds to the congratulatory texts from Georgi and Yuuko, calls his grandfather, then collapses into bed and passes out with every intention of sleeping until Yakov comes to drag him out of bed the next day.

He regains consciousness about three hours later. The sense of dread he thought was resolved with Yuuri’s decision against retirement is back with a vengeance. Yuri tosses and turns for twenty minutes before he’s forced to accept that he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. His brain is wide awake, his thoughts flying through his head so fast he’s unable to decipher them. He’s tense and on edge, only he’s even less sure what to blame it on now than he was before.

The rink felt too big after his free skate. Now, his hotel room feels too small, like the walls are closing in on him at an alarming rate. Yuri considers using the television as a distraction, but he doesn’t think it’ll do anything to alleviate the feeling of confinement, so he snags his phone from the side table and rolls out of bed. He grabs his room key, pulls on a hoodie, and shoves his feet into his shoes.

He’s out the door before he can think better of it.

The hotel is mostly quiet, the elevator empty when he steps in. It doesn’t stop on any of the other floors, so Yuri rides it straight down to the lobby. He chews on his thumbnail and watches the numbers change. The passage of time has been inconsistent all day — going fast, then slow, then fast again. The elevator ride is torturously slow even without frequent stops to break up the steady drop down.

Out in the lobby, Yuri struggles to determine what he actually means to do now that he’s up and about. It’s well beyond midnight. Though he’s been familiarizing himself with Barcelona over the last several days, he has no desire to go out into the darkness alone. He’s used to being solitary, yet the thought of walking the streets by himself when his head is such a mess unnerves him. The streets around the hotel might be reasonably familiar, but it isn’t home.

Yuri’s contemplating a thorough, floor-by-floor exploration of the hotel when he realizes he’s not the only one in the lobby.

JJ sits on one of the couches, talking on his phone with his head in his hand, and his elbow propped on one knee.

“It’s just a lot all at once, you know?” he says quietly.

He looks uncharacteristically weary, tired and drawn. His hair’s been mused, though it’s unclear whether it’s the result of sleep or repeatedly dragging his hand through it. JJ must have tried to settle down at some point, because he’s in a faded t-shirt and the most unfashionable sweatpants Yuri’s ever seen. They’re a dull blue, with one leg proclaiming “Maple Leafs” in bold white letters that have Yuri rolling his eyes.

Yuri almost turns around and walks away. He tells himself he doesn’t really care what JJ’s up to. He doesn’t know much about JJ to begin with, and what he does know annoys him, but Yuri’s also feeling glum and restless, and he has nothing better to do this early in the morning.

Without really thinking it through, Yuri stomps over to the sitting area and throws himself onto an armchair in what is clearly an obvious attempt to gain JJ’s attention.

JJ looks up and stares tiredly, then says into his phone, “Alright, I’ll let you go. No, it’s fine. It’s late. The exhibition and the banquet are tomorrow. Or later today. Whatever. You know what I mean. Anyway, I should try to get some sleep. I’ll call you later. Yeah, you too. Thanks, man.”

Yuri doesn’t stare back. He scrolls through his phone and pretends to be completely unconcerned by JJ’s presence.

There’s no sound for a while. Yuri would be grateful for it if it didn’t feel almost painfully awkward. He doesn’t know what he intends to accomplish by this. He has nothing to say to JJ, and he isn’t sure he wants to try holding a conversation anyway — not with someone who has a habit of making him feel so resentful.

The longer he feels JJ’s eyes on him, the more Yuri regrets his hasty decision.

“Can’t sleep?” JJ finally asks.

Yuri keeps his hard gaze locked on his phone. “Obviously.”

“You and me both,” JJ says. He drags his hands down his face and settles his weight against the couch cushions in a jaded sprawl.

There’s none of JJ’s customary arrogance in his posture. Yuri can’t see the look in JJ’s eyes, but he knows JJ’s not smiling. There’s something very grim about him that Yuri would not have expected from someone who usually has such a jovial outlook on everything.

“Who were you talking to?” Yuri asks. He makes himself sound churlish because he doesn’t want JJ to think he cares.

He doesn’t, of course. He has no reason to. But JJ’s demeanor _does_ inspire a certain level of curiosity.

“Leo,” JJ says.

“Who?”

“De la Iglesia.”

Yuri recognizes the name. That JJ knows the American doesn’t really come as a surprise; that JJ and Leo seem to have the sort of relationship that involves early morning and late night pity sessions _does_. He’s rarely seen JJ around anyone who isn’t his girlfriend, his parents-turned-coaches, or his simpering fangirls.

“Whining about your humiliating defeat?” Yuri asks.

JJ laughs, but it sounds low and humorless. “No, actually, we were talking about how me and Izzy might take a break.”

Despite his best efforts to appear disinterested, Yuri’s head snaps up. “What?”

“You heard me,” JJ says.

“Didn’t you just propose to her?”

“After Rostelecom, yeah.”

“And now you want to break up with her?”

“She’s the one who brought it up, not me.”

“What, she doesn’t want to marry you if you don’t win gold?”

It’s a low blow and Yuri knows it, but JJ doesn’t react to it at all. He’s got his eyes closed with his head pressed back into the couch cushions. The tight smile on his face looks self-deprecating. JJ’s present demeanor is such a considerable departure from his usual cocky self-assurance that Yuri feels uncomfortable staring at him.  

When JJ’s being a piece of shit, Yuri can hate him and curse his existence in peace, but when JJ actually looks like he might have it in him to be less of an intolerable human being, Yuri’s forced to confront the idea that all the “King JJ” bullshit is as much of a defensive front as Yuri’s identity as the “Russian Punk.”

Yuri doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to analyze JJ any more than he wants to do the same for himself.

“Lay off. It’s more complicated than that,” JJ says.

He’s being vague on purpose. Yuri can tell by the quiet tone of JJ’s voice. The curiosity hasn’t eased, but Yuri doesn’t want to admit to it because he thinks it might make him seem like he gives a damn about the situation. Even if he asked for clarification, he’s not sure JJ would consent to explain anyway. It seems like too much effort for what will probably be very little payoff.

So Yuri goes back to his phone. He doesn’t care about JJ or JJ’s girlfriend or any of their relationship drama. If anything, the fickle way they seem to be treating their engagement pisses Yuri off. Then again, relationships irritate him in general. They’re a waste of time and effort, and they require a level of trust in other people that Yuri just doesn’t have.

He centers his attention on social media instead, but because he doesn’t have any interests or friends outside of figure skating, everything he sees is about his win that evening.  

There are gifs of his performance. There are news articles highlighting his career. His fans gush, and other skaters congratulate him. He sees a post from Mila with a selfie she dragged him into earlier that night, him with his gold medal and Mila with her silver. Georgi’s posted a photo, too, but this one’s from several years ago, soon after Yuri began training under Yakov. It’s the four of them together — Yuri, Mila, Georgi, and Viktor. Yuri stares at it for a while, even if the sight of it makes him feel a bit homesick.

The group photo Phichit requested is wracking up thousands of likes and reblogs. Yuri looks through dozens of comments, then glances back at the picture to examine each of their faces in turn. JJ grins widely on the far left, presenting his bronze medal with pride. Christophe makes a kissy face beside him, flower crown still perched on his head. Phichit and Yuuri both appear wide-eyed and happy in the middle. Otabek looks as stoic as always on the far right, but there’s something sort of warm and relaxed about him with his arm slung around Yuri’s waist.

Yuri hates the tired look on his own face. His eyes look dull, his expression a bit strained. He almost wishes he could have smiled, if only so he might have looked marginally happy instead of ragged and worn down.

There are other pictures of him with a similar expression during the medal ceremony, spread far and wide over the internet, accompanied by silly comments or snide remarks that touch a nerve.

“I’m already a fucking meme,” Yuri grumbles.

“What?” JJ says.

He’s scrolling through his phone now, too. Yuri glances up, a bit unsettled when he realizes they’ve just spent the last ten minutes sitting in companionable silence.

“Pictures of me on the podium,” Yuri says.

“Oh,” is JJ’s response. The way he says it, Yuri’s sure JJ knows exactly what he’s talking about.

It would be funny if the comments were made about anyone else, but Yuri’s always been too sensitive to be amused by jokes made at his own expense.

“There’s this one picture of you…” JJ says, and he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees while he thumbs at his phone. “Hold on, let me find it.”

It takes him a minute to locate the photograph in question. When he does, JJ passes his phone over the coffee table. Yuri sits up in the armchair and reaches out to take it from him.

The picture shows Yuri at center ice that evening. It headlines an article in English titled “Russia’s Yuri Plisetsky, 15, Wins Grand Prix Final.” The picture must have been taken just as his music ended, that split second before he gasped for air, burst into tears, and fell to his knees. There’s no sign of tears in his eyes in the photo. His gaze is narrowed determinedly, his chin lifted, his expression fierce and driven. His arms are spread in his final pose; he looks thin and small, but strong and tenacious, too.

It’s exactly how he’s always wanted to be perceived. Seeing it there so clearly — that perfect blend of power and prettiness — nearly takes Yuri’s breath away.

“Fucking fantastic, isn’t it?” JJ says.

All Yuri can do is swallow thickly and nod.

He spends some time staring at it, burning the picture into his memory. Out of curiosity, he reads the accompanying article and finds it full of glowing praises. The author labels Yuri’s performances “breathtaking,” calls Yuri a “truly gifted prodigy,” commends Yuri’s “masterful technique.” The only time Viktor’s mentioned in the article is to credit him for his short program choreography. There are no comparisons between the two, no side-by-side analysis, no commentary about Yuri being “the next Viktor Nikiforov.”

_‘Yuri Plisetsky seems poised to surpass all expectations.’_

Normally, a statement like that might make Yuri swell with pride. He nearly does; Yuri can feel it growing somewhere deep in his chest, but it’s quickly stifled beneath a heavy cloud of anxiety.

“I want the picture,” he says when he hands the phone back to JJ.

“I can send it to you,” JJ says.

Yuri watches JJ’s fingers move over the phone screen. He’s considering which method he’d rather JJ use to send the photo when his own phone vibrates in his hand. There’s a text message from a number he doesn’t recognize, with a link to the article.

“How the fuck do you have my number?” Yuri snaps.

 JJ shrugs Yuri’s caustic tone off and says, “You harassed me at the banquet last year.  Made me send you all the pictures I took.”

Yuri struggles to remember. It’s not that he can’t recall the night in question — he does, with startling clarity — but he accosted quite a few people that night with the intention of collecting as much blackmail material as possible. JJ’s face doesn’t stand out in his memory.

“So you decided to keep my number?” Yuri says.

A wide, teasing grin finally breaks through JJ’s melancholy. “Maybe I have a thing for leggy blonds.”

“Fuck off.”

JJ laughs. It’s a warm, pleasant sound, and Yuri hates how companionable it makes them seem. He hates how it makes JJ come off as open and friendly instead of the smarmy asshole Yuri’s spent the last couple of months imagining.

“You know I’m just giving you a hard time on purpose, right?” JJ says.

Yuri curls back into the armchair and glares at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re young and new and you make it so easy.”

“I’m not the only one who’s young and new this season.”

“Yeah, but you’re still the youngest,” JJ explains. His grin hasn’t diminished at all. “You’re the baby. The itty bittiest. The tiniest dancer.”

Yuri scoffs and turns back to his phone.

JJ takes the opportunity to sing, “Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer~...”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Yuri tells him.

“Count the headlights on the highway~...”

“Seriously, fuck you.”

“Lay me down in sheets of linen~...”

“I hate you so much.”

“You had a busy day today~...”

JJ doesn’t stop until Yuri looks up again to glare at him. The obnoxious grin grows a little smaller then, back to the amiable smile JJ wore when he helped Yuri off the podium that evening. It makes Yuri wonder what JJ really thinks of him, and he hates that the thought makes him feel suddenly self-conscious.

Sometimes he wishes he didn’t care what anyone thought — not JJ, not Viktor, not some random jokester on the internet — but he hasn’t spent years cultivating the conflicting identities of the Russian Fairy and the Russian Punk for it not to matter.

There’s a beat of silence. Then JJ hoists himself off of the couch and stretches with a quiet groan.

“Busy day tomorrow, too,” he says. “I should try to get some sleep.”

Some of the sadness from before returns to JJ’s eyes. Yuri turns away and curls further into the armchair so he doesn’t have to see it. The turn in their conversation never did kill Yuri’s curiosity, but he refuses to give into the temptation to ask about it again.

“Good night, Yuri.”

Yuri doesn’t answer. He keeps his eyes glued to his phone. While JJ rounds the coffee table to make his way toward the elevator, Yuri opens the link JJ sent him and stares at the picture again.

Of the thousands of pictures already saved to his phone, Yuri thinks this is one of his favorites.

A thought strikes him then. As much as Yuri tries to resist, he can’t hold back the sudden cry. “Wait!”

It’s too loud and too desperate — out of his mouth before he can think better of it. For just a moment, Yuri considers pretending as if he didn’t say anything at all, but he’s not sure JJ will just let it go. So Yuri rolls onto his knees and leans his elbows against the top of the armchair, staring at JJ over the back of it. He makes an effort to look petulant so JJ won’t think his answer is important.

JJ doesn’t say anything yet, just stands in the elevator with his hand out to keep the doors from closing.

“The picture,” Yuri says. “You like it. Why?”

JJ’s quiet for a little while, like he’s trying to figure out what he wants to say. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting the question, because he looks a little surprised by it. He studies Yuri’s face, stares into Yuri’s eyes over the distance, and Yuri is glad that JJ finds the restraint not to tease him this time. The silence that passes between them is very deliberate. Yuri’s question was sincere, and the look JJ gives him in return makes him certain JJ has every intention of providing him with an equally sincere answer.

“Because it’s inspiring,” JJ finally says. His voice is soft, sort of reverent. “Everyone keeps saying Viktor’s the one to beat, but I saw that picture and realized they’ve got it all wrong.”

Yuri doesn’t bother disguising his confusion. His brows furrow as he frowns.

JJ’s mouth curves into another smile when he says, “The one to beat is you.”

He moves his hand and lets the elevator doors close, leaving Yuri alone in the lobby.

Yuri stares into nothingness for a while. Only when his knees begin to ache does he turn away and settle back onto the armchair.  His heart pounds wildly, and he has to swallow convulsively to force down the apprehension that rises into his throat.

Inexplicably, tears spring into Yuri’s eyes when he looks at the picture again.

It’s everything he’s ever thought he always wanted, but he’s already so close to the breaking point.

He doesn’t know how much further he can really go.


	2. King of Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri has an unwelcome conversation with Viktor followed by a slightly less unwelcome conversation with JJ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to admit that I don't really understand the relationship between Yuri and Viktor, but Yuri tends to act more hostile when Viktor's around, so I've decided to explore it from the angle of anger and antagonism on Yuri's part, coupled with a Viktor who wants to try but also has no idea how to really handle him.

“All my life, I’ve tried to make everybody happy  
While I just hurt and hide,  
Waiting for someone to tell me it’s my turn to decide.  
  
Who cares if you disagree?  
You are not me.  
Who made you King of anything?  
So you dare tell me who to be?  
Who died and made you King of anything?”  


\- [“King of Anything” by Sara Bareilles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eR7-AUmiNcA)

* * *

 

Yuri manages only two more hours of real, uninterrupted sleep before a loud, persistent knocking on his hotel room door rouses him from a bleary-eyed doze. For the first several moments, Yuri listens carefully and goes through a process of elimination to determine who it could possibly be.  

He knows it’s not Yakov, who wouldn’t need to knock because he always keeps Yuri’s extra room key. It’s not Lilia. Her knocking wouldn’t be anywhere near as obnoxious, and it’s too early for her to come fetch him anyway. He’s pretty sure it’s not Mila either. He knows she wouldn’t be able to restrain herself from announcing her presence out in the hallway.

When Yuri finally drags himself out of bed to rip open the door, he’s greeted by, quite possibly, the _last_ person he wants to see this early in the morning.

 _Viktor_.

“What the fuck do you want?” Yuri snaps.

If Viktor feels any sort of sympathy upon seeing Yuri’s disheveled state and the dark shadows that surely ring his eyes, he doesn’t show it.

“We need to talk,” he says.

“If this is about you and the pig, I don’t give a fuck what you have to say.”

“This is about you, actually.”

“I still don’t give a fuck,” Yuri says.

Even so, he knows Viktor won’t let up until he gets what he wants. Viktor is stubborn and selfish, and Yuri’s not awake enough to fight it out with him yet. He leaves Viktor at the door while he grabs his things, then shoves past him on the way to the elevator.

There’s a small café off to the side of the lobby. It hasn’t been open very long that morning, so it’s empty but for the employees behind the counter. To Yuri, it seems like a safe place to have whatever conversation Viktor intends to have with him. No matter what Viktor says, Yuri’s not convinced this isn’t somehow about Yuuri. It’s what his last two interactions with Viktor have been about. He can’t see how this will be any different.

They order drinks and wait in silence while they’re prepared, then settle down at a table near one of the windows. Yuri picks at a flakey pastry while he lets his tea cool down to a more reasonable temperature. He’s not hungry, and after a restless night of little sleep he’s not really surprised by his lack of an appetite.

“Okay, you have my attention,” Yuri says. “Tell me what you want and then get the fuck out of my face.”

Viktor’s smile looks a little tight when he responds. “I thought we should talk about your career.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “If you’re trying to make it seem like it actually matters to you, it’s not going to work. You’ve made it pretty fucking clear you don’t give a shit.”

“When have I done that?”

“How about when you ditched me to go after some guy you met at a party?”

The betrayal stings even now. It’s been eight months since Viktor left Russia without a single word, and Yuri hasn’t gotten over it. He doesn’t know if he ever will. The indignation he felt when he first learned of Viktor’s decision to coach Yuuri was nothing compared to the sense of abandonment that slowly crept in when Yuri joined them in Japan. The more he watched Viktor watch Yuuri, the more Yuri realized his efforts would only end in rejection.

Yuri knows it’s not his fault. It’s not really Yuuri’s fault either. He can’t hate Yuuri for what happened, even if he wants to. The only option left is to hate Viktor — a task Yuri finds relatively simple, given that he’s never worshipped Viktor the way most of the figure skating world does.

Across the table, Viktor shows only the tiniest shred of remorse.

“I should apologize,” he says.

“But you’re not really sorry, are you?” Yuri counters.

“No. It brought me to Yuuri.”

It hurts far more than Yuri thought it would. He’s spent the better part of a year avoiding this moment, letting his anger and bitterness disguise the pain. He left the rink in Japan before he could hear Viktor announce his choice, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach it. It’s a difficult pill to swallow even now.

Yuri turns away to look out the window. He can feel his eyes burning, and he doesn’t want Viktor to see.

“Then you can take whatever fake apology you were going to spout off and shove it up your ass,” Yuri says. He’s glad, at least, that his voice sounds more gruff than broken.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” Viktor tells him.

“You’ve done a shit job of proving it.”

“What would you like me to do?”

Yuri doesn’t respond because he doesn’t know what the answer is. He doesn’t want Viktor’s guidance, or any of Viktor’s aggravating affection. Really, he doesn’t want much of anything from Viktor anymore. There are times when Yuri feels particularly hurt that he thinks he might like to cut Viktor out of his life altogether, but he knows he doesn’t have it in him to do it. Viktor is as familiar to Yuri as Mila and Georgi are. After he left Moscow, they all made St. Petersburg feel like home.

Viktor sighs and seems to think it best to drop the topic there, because the next thing he says is, “You didn’t give any interviews yesterday.”

“I’m not obligated to, am I?” Yuri argues.

“You could have said a few words.”

“Is this what you dragged me out of bed for? To lecture me about interviews?”

“You should be more concerned about your reputation.”

Yuri makes a disapproving noise and continues glaring out the window. He folds his arms over his chest and leans into the back of his chair. He knows he looks petty and juvenile, but he can’t find the will to care.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” he sneers. “You’re the one trashing your reputation left and right.”

“Is that what you think?”

“You’ve been the complete opposite of discrete when it comes to your relationship. You came out on a live broadcast. You didn’t even say anything. You still haven’t. You just kissed him, and you let everyone draw their own conclusions.”

“Is this you showing concern?” Viktor asks. He sounds amused, his voice taking on that light, airy tone that makes Yuri want to punch him for being so effusive.

“This is me bursting the fucking delusional bubble you’ve been living in since you flew off to Japan!” Yuri snaps.

Anger makes it easier to look at Viktor. Yuri glowers at him, and he hates that it doesn’t seem to mess with Viktor’s mood at all.

Yuri doesn’t really know how to read Viktor. It’s easy when Viktor’s being merry and playful, but when the serious conversations start and the smiles disappear, Yuri rarely knows what’s going on in Viktor’s head. Viktor looks sort of blank and disconnected in those moments. Yuri can never be totally sure when Viktor’s angry or annoyed. Sometimes a piece of it might slip out in his physical responses — Yuri won’t soon forget the way Viktor’s fingers pressed into his face — but Viktor’s expressions and the tone of his voice are usually disturbingly controlled.

He’s sure it’s a defense mechanism, something Viktor learned when he was young — the way Yuri learned bitterness.

The loud tone of Yuri’s voice attracts attention from the café’s employees. He and Viktor are holding their conversation in Russian, which only seems to make them more curious. They keep sneaking glances, wary and intrigued all at once. Yuri ignores them. He keeps his eyes fastened on Viktor, at least until he notices the figure standing at the counter.

It’s JJ. _Again_.  

Yuri knows it’s just a coincidence, but he’s resentful and suspicious by nature, so seeing JJ again so soon after their late night chat kindles feelings of unease in him. JJ isn’t openly staring, but he glances over once or twice while he’s placing his order. There’s something in his eyes that looks like concern. It brings to Yuri’s mind the memory of JJ helping him off the podium, the way JJ’s fingers squeezed around Yuri’s hand in silent support.

Yuri doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t really want to think about anything.

“You’re angry,” Viktor says. He either hasn’t noticed their audience or he doesn’t care.

“Of course I’m angry,” Yuri answers. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be angry?”

“You could hide it better. You’re not disciplined enough. You need to control your anger instead of letting it control you. These outbursts are going to cost you.”

“Fuck off. I don’t want any of your bullshit advice. You’re the one who’s going to be raked over the coals. What, you can’t stomach reality, so you avoid all the bad press surrounding you by harassing me about my attitude?”

“I’m trying to help you,” Viktor counters.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want your fucking help!”

Yuri’s voice is still too loud in the small café, but he knows he won’t be able to restrain himself, so he doesn’t try. Viktor’s right. When Yuri’s anger flares up, he can be ruled by it almost exclusively. Yuri hates that he can’t prove Viktor’s wrong, hates that he’s behaving in a way Viktor’s come to expect, but anger hurts less than everything else Viktor’s made him feel in the last eight months. He protects himself with antagonism, uses it as a shield to disguise how awful he feels beneath it.

Viktor frowns at him. It looks a bit sad and hopeless.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” he says.

It’s the final push Yuri needs to tip over the edge.

Yuri’s hands slam against the table top. He rises too quickly and one of his feet gets caught on a chair leg. He stumbles as a result, but he keeps himself upright. Fury makes him tremble. He wants to grab Viktor by the collar and shake him, wants to scream at Viktor until his voice gives out. He wants to punch Viktor over and over again, until Viktor’s face is bloody and his eyes are swollen shut, and Yuri doesn’t have to see the pity there anymore.

“You don’t know _anything_!” Yuri shouts. “You have no fucking idea _what_ I feel, because you’ve never cared to look at me as anything more than the stupid brat following in your footsteps!”

“You know that’s not true,” Viktor says.

“It _is_ true! You look at me and you see what you want to see, because you’re too fucking self-absorbed to see anything else! I don’t give a fuck _what_ you think! We’re nothing alike! I’m not _you_!  I’ve never _been_ you! I’ll never _be_ you! I don’t _want_ to be you!”

“What do you want then?”

Yuri has to pause to take a breath. His heart is beating erratically. His chest is tight, and he’s experiencing that fluttery sensation beneath his ribs again. It unnerves him because he still doesn’t totally understand the emotions behind it. He can feel his anger crumbling beneath the weight of helplessness mixed with something that feels like fear, only this fear doesn’t seem normal. It’s too intense. He doesn’t know the cause of it, because it’s only him and Viktor there at the table, and Yuri doesn’t think he’s afraid of Viktor.

More than anything, Yuri’s afraid of himself. He’s afraid of his anger failing him. He’s afraid of drowning beneath the powerlessness he feels in the face of the man who the rest of the world believes should be his idol. He fears saying the wrong thing and spouting off the truths he’s kept buried inside — how lost and confused and alone he’s felt, how it’s only grown worse the longer it remains, how terrified he is that he’s not good enough, that his win yesterday was nothing more than a fluke. He wants to scream and shout, but he wants to curl away, too, and he hates feeling so conflicted, _hates_ that he can’t make up his mind.

“I want you to leave me alone!” Yuri forces out, and he wishes it was true, wishes he could care less than he does.

The fear spikes higher when Yuri hears his voice break. He’s close to losing it and he doesn’t want Viktor to see, doesn’t want Viktor to know the extent of his misery, because he can’t trust Viktor not to use the knowledge to his advantage. Viktor’s not the enemy, but he doesn’t always feel like Yuri’s ally either; he’s not the shittiest person Yuri’s ever met, but at some point in his life Viktor learned to string people along and manipulate them with a wide, friendly smile on his face, and that seems more dangerous to Yuri than someone with a more forward approach.

So Yuri leaves before Viktor can say anything else, stumbles away from the table without a thought for the tea or the pastry he’s barely even touched. He knows Viktor turns to watch him go because he can feel Viktor’s gaze boring into his back, but he can’t make himself look because he’s not sure he’ll be able to hold it together if he does. He slips out of the café at a near run, overcome by a profound need to flee from everything Viktor makes him feel, everything Viktor represents.

He doesn’t know where to go. A part of him wants to leave the hotel and run far, far away, but he knows there are still Yuri’s Angels lingering around everywhere with their cameras, and he doesn’t want to be followed or photographed. He wants quiet and isolation, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to find it back in his room either — not when Yakov or Lilia or Mila can come by at any moment, not when Viktor can find him there again.

Yuri comes to a stop by one of the elevators and brings his hands to his head. He covers his eyes with his palms to block out the light, then slides his fingers into his hair and digs his nails into his scalp. The pain is only temporary, but it gives him something to focus on other than his racing thoughts. He’s shaking visibly now. He can feel the tremors working through his arms. The fluttering in his chest is starting to make him feel sick; he has to take several deep breaths to deter the nausea.

He’s hyper aware of his surroundings, so he knows he’s not alone without hearing a word from the figure that comes up behind him. Yuri forces himself to drop his hands before turning around. He glares more as a way to conceal his emotions than to scare the figure off.

It’s JJ, of course. With the way their last couple of encounters have gone, Yuri’s not all that surprised.

“What do you want?” Yuri says. He’s relieved that he sounds more annoyed than truly troubled.

JJ looks pensive. He watches Yuri intently. Yuri wouldn’t have thought to describe JJ as perceptive before, but the way JJ’s staring at him makes Yuri think JJ knows exactly what’s going on in his head. It unnerves him, so Yuri makes a stubborn effort to dredge up the remnants of his anger to mask the fear he thinks might linger in his eyes, and in the stiff, jerky way he moves.

It’s unclear if JJ ever went to sleep. He doesn’t look half as tired as Yuri feels, but he must have been up before Yuri, because his hair is damp from a shower and his attire makes him look more put together than he did last night — jeans Yuri’s sure come from some fancy ass designer line, and a crisp button-up Yuri thinks looks pretentious. Yuri immediately loathes everything about the way JJ looks, because it makes him feel young and stupid and impoverished in his sweatpants and hoodie.

“Nothing,” JJ says. “Just heading back up to my room.”

He’s holding two beverages from the café.  Yuri feels too out of sorts to stop himself from asking about it.

“Sucking up to your girlfriend?”

“What, this?” JJ asks, raising the drinks for clarification. “It’s not sucking up if I do it all the time, is it?”

“So you’re still together?”

“You really want to know?”

JJ’s face doesn’t give it away, no matter how long Yuri spends looking at him. Whether he slept or not, he must have somehow come to grips with the situation enough that he’s no longer drowning in melancholia. JJ’s expression isn’t nearly as guarded as it was a few hours ago; his mouth is curved into an easy smile. The only thing that stands out is a bit of tightness around his eyes, but that could easily be from fatigue.

“Why would you bother getting shit for her if you weren’t together?” Yuri says.

“Not every relationship ends in a fight,” JJ counters. “People can break up and stay friends. They don’t have to hate one another.”

Yuri doesn’t argue the point because it doesn’t really matter to him, but after what just happened with Viktor he’s pretty sure that’s bullshit. Every relationship he’s ever witnessed, romantic or otherwise, has ended in a dramatic fashion. Mila always fights with her boyfriends before breaking it off, and then she talks so much shit about them Yuri has no idea why she bothered dating them in the first place. He remembers how much Georgi bitched and moaned about Anya for weeks when she dropped his ass for another guy, then how he moped around miserably when she wouldn’t take him back. Yuri doesn’t know what happened between Yakov and Lilia, but the way they act around one another now is more than enough to clue him into the fact that their divorce probably came with a fair bit of turbulence.

He turns away with a scowl and hits the button for the elevator with an unnecessary amount of force. His head’s still a mess of emotions, but at least with JJ there Yuri has an easier time focusing on his anger and annoyance. The anger actually overwhelms everything else again, because he’s immediately pissed off that JJ is what it takes for him to find some semblance of control.

“Did you break up with her or not?” Yuri snaps. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to hide any further trembling.

“Why do you want to know?”

“You’re the one who brought it up last night.”

“True,” JJ says. He seems to consider this for a moment, then continues, “Okay, fine. Did _I_ break up with her? No. Did we come to a mutual decision to take a break? Yes.”

“Why?”

JJ shrugs. “Shit happens.”

“That’s all you have to say about it?”

“I’d say more, but we’re not really friends, are we?”

Yuri can’t argue against that. He doesn’t have many friends to begin with, and most of the ones he does have are friends of circumstance. He trains with Mila and Georgi; maybe he _does_ care about them in his own way, but they only became his friends because they were around all the time. The first friend Yuri has made on his own is Otabek, but that relationship is still so new that he’s not sure if it really counts yet.

Other than Viktor, JJ is the last person Yuri feels like being friendly with, no matter what their more recent encounters might lead one to believe. Everything he knows about JJ frustrates him on his good days and pisses him off on his bad ones. Admittedly, he doesn’t know very much, but JJ’s expensive clothes and his overall sociability are enough to tell Yuri that they likely don’t have anything in common outside of figure skating. What’s worse, those observations remind Yuri of Viktor, and he’s been so disenchanted by everything Viktor’s done that JJ doesn’t really stand a chance.

“I see you and Viktor got into a bit of a fight,” JJ says.

In his pockets, Yuri’s fingers curl into his palms. He takes another heavy breath and glares at the elevator display when it stops five floors above them.

“So?” he says.

“I thought the two of you would be all buddy-buddy since you share a coach.”

“You thought wrong.”

“What did he do?”

The question strikes Yuri as odd. Most people choose to place the blame on Yuri whenever he has a public row with someone, particularly when that someone is Viktor. He knows why, of course. Viktor’s reputation was pristine before he made a public spectacle of himself when he went off to chase after Yuuri; Yuri, by contrast, is pretty well known for his bad attitude off the ice. If there’s contention between the two of them, people have an easier time placing the blame on the Russian Punk.

Maybe that’s why Yuri actually answers instead of telling JJ to mind his own fucking business.

“He tried to lecture me about my reputation, as if he has any right to harass me about anything after he ditched me.”

“When did he ditch you?”

“You didn’t hear about the shit that happened in Japan?”

“Well, yeah, I heard about it,” JJ says, “but I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it. What happened?”

“He was supposed to choreograph my senior debut, but he went to coach the pig instead.”

“But I thought he choreographed your short program.”

“He did, but that was only after I followed him to make sure he made good on his promise,” Yuri practically spits the explanation out like the memory offends him.

The truth of the matter is that he hates his short program. The fact that he can skate it well enough to receive a record breaking score doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t enjoy any of that unconditional love shit any better than he did when Viktor first saddled him with Agape instead of Eros. Yuri barely understands what that shit even means, and after Viktor’s refusal to explain it to him in Japan, he’s fairly certain Viktor doesn’t really get it either. Every once in awhile, Yuri has been struck with the suspicion that Viktor did it on purpose, that he was set up to fail.

So he took Viktor’s costume and Viktor’s choreography, and out of spite Yuri made it his own.

But once the season’s over, he has no intention of ever skating it again.

“He likes to pretend that he forgot he promised me anything,” Yuri says.

The elevator doors finally open. Yuri shifts to the side to avoid the few passengers spilling out before he heads in. He presses the button for his floor, then backs into the corner and leans against the wall. JJ follows him but doesn’t hit any of the other buttons yet. He watches Yuri with the strangest look on his face. Yuri thinks JJ actually looks a bit annoyed, but he’s convinced it can’t be because of the Viktor issue, because JJ doesn’t have any particular reason to care about that.

“So is it true he’s going to compete again?” JJ asks.

Yuri snorts and rolls his eyes. “He likes to think he is.”

“Meaning?”

“You think the powers that be are really going to let him coach and compete at the same time?”

“Considering who Viktor is, I don’t really think I’d be surprised,” JJ says, in a low tone of voice that sounds a bit like contempt.

Yuri can’t completely conceal his surprise. He stares at JJ a little more closely in an attempt to understand where the subtle hostility could possibly stem from. If it were anyone else, Yuri might think it was jealousy, but he can’t think of a reason why JJ would be jealous of Viktor, not when he has the strength and the skill level necessary to have as much of a successful career as Viktor has. Yuri hates to admit it because it means acknowledging his own weaknesses, but he’s had the entirety of the Grand Prix Series to accept that JJ is probably going to be his toughest competition for many years to come.

Which leads Yuri to wonder if JJ looks at Viktor the way _he_ looks at Viktor — not as someone to be admired, but as someone to surpass. He tries to think back over the last few weeks, searching for any signs that his assumption might be correct, but he spent so much time purposefully ignoring JJ that he can’t be sure he didn’t miss something.

“Viktor’s in for a rude awakening when he returns to Russia,” Yuri says.

He almost looks forward to it. He’s convinced Viktor will be disappointed, and after the spectacularly awful way Viktor’s handled things with hardly any repercussions so far, Yuri would give anything to see Viktor’s delusions officially destroyed. The only drawbacks are that the attention will once again be all on Viktor, and the drama and the backlash from it will most likely end up affecting Yuuri, too. That part will be notably less amusing.

JJ doesn’t say anything in response. He looks lost in thought for the last few moments they’re on the elevator together. Yuri leaves him to it and drops the conversation where it is because he’s beginning to feel unsettled again. He was hoping the relatively companionable nature of their conversation last night was the result of stress and fatigue and _not_ a sign that they might actually be able to get along, but the more Yuri observes JJ and tries to judge his reactions, the more Yuri’s forced to consider that there might be a chance they could be on decent terms under very specific circumstances — namely in those brief, infrequent moments when JJ seems like he might be the tiniest bit relatable.

Yuri feels mildly relieved to arrive on his floor. When the doors open, he marches off the elevator and begins making his way down the hall without another word.

“Hey,” JJ calls after him.

Yuri turns to see him leaning out of the elevator, staring down the hall at him with another serious look on his face.

“What?” Yuri says.

“Why do you think Viktor completely disregards me?”

The question gives Yuri pause.  

He can pick out a little resentment in JJ’s voice again, and he thinks this time that JJ means for him to hear it. They share a look that feels like understanding. Yuri wants to go on pretending that he and JJ are completely different people following completely different paths, but in that moment he’s forced to recognize a piece of himself in the hard look that’s entered JJ’s eyes.

Yuri has spent the last several years fighting to make a name for himself in Viktor’s considerable shadow. It’s easy to hate JJ for daring to get in his way; it’s much harder to accept that JJ is likely in the exact same position, struggling to meet the expectations of the world without losing himself in the process.

“Viktor can be a petty bitch,” Yuri tells him. “He wants people to think otherwise, but he doesn’t like the thought that someone might surpass his legacy.”

He doesn’t say that JJ is on track to do just that. Yuri would rather that admission remain unspoken. It’s one thing to acknowledge it in his head; saying it out loud would be too much even in a moment like this.

JJ seems to hear it in his words anyway. His mouth curves into a wide smile and the tension around his eyes eases a bit.

“That actually sounds like an indirect compliment,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Yuri counters, but it doesn’t sound as harsh as he meant it to.

“I think you’re starting to warm up to me.”

“I despise you.”

“I hate to break it to you, babe, but I’m pretty sure we’ve downgraded from hate to dislike,” JJ says. “Soon we’ll be at grudging respect. I think I can live with that.”

“Don’t you have some sucking up to do?”

“Yeah, but now half of me wants to stick around and tease you some more. You might have everyone else fooled, but I can see that icy exterior starting to melt. It’s kind of exciting.”

“Go the fuck away.”

“Play hard to get all you want, Tiny Dancer. I’m gonna get a smile out of you one day.”

Yuri regrets answering JJ’s question with honesty. He makes an exasperated sound in his throat and turns away, stalking down the hall to his room.

He hears JJ’s voice rise loud and obnoxious from the elevator just before the doors close, singing, “Ballerina~... You must have seen her... Dancing in the sand~”

In his growing annoyance, Yuri fumbles with the keycard. He half expects Yakov or Lilia to come out into the hall to pester him about the noise, but he gets the door open and ducks into his room before either of them have the chance. He waits at the door for a few moments and listens to make sure JJ is truly gone. Thankfully, the hallway remains quiet.

Solitude comes as a relief, though Yuri knows it won’t last long. He has the exhibition and the banquet to get through later today, and he doesn’t look forward to either of them. Both involve too many people, and a level of attention he’s not sure he can handle when his emotions are already in such disarray. Anger and irritation might have risen up to mask the fear again, but he knows it won’t take much to change that, not when a single word from Viktor can set him off.

He feels heavy and tired. More than anything, he wants to go home — back to St. Petersburg where everything is routine, or to Moscow where his grandfather is proudly waiting for him. Barcelona has been a stressful experience; the gold medal on top of his luggage doesn’t feel worth it.

Yuri kicks his shoes off and flops onto the bed. He spends a few minutes shoving his face into one of the pillows in an attempt to block out the rest of the world. When that doesn’t dispel the growing apprehension, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends a text to Otabek.

_‘Are you awake yet?’_

Ten minutes go by without a response. Yuri turns over to stare at the ceiling, then he turns over again to stare at the wall. He grabs the remote to turn on the television and flips through the channels, but nothing interests him at all, so he ends up turning it off just as quickly. He wants to sleep but knows he won’t be able to manage more than a light doze. He’s frustrated with himself and antsy by the time his phone finally vibrates in his hand.

It isn’t Otabek.

 _‘I was thinking about your Viktor problem,’_ the text reads, ‘ _and this song popped into my head.’_

Yuri only clicks on the link JJ sent him because he wants to remind himself why JJ is the most annoying person in the entire world.  

A video opens up, and Yuri’s plan backfires completely when “King of Anything” by Sara Bareilles turns out to be a really catchy song. He listens to it three times before he consents to send JJ a response.

_‘Haha’_

JJ’s return text arrives in seconds.  _‘I feel like that’s sarcasm’_

 _‘I didn’t think you’d call anyone but yourself a king,’_ Yuri types. He sends it before he can think better of prolonging the conversation.

 _‘I plan on fighting for my crown,’_ JJ says. _‘I’ll snatch it right out of Viktor’s hands if I have to. They can call me King JJ the Usurper’_

_‘You’re so full of shit’_

_‘Am I tho?’_

_‘Yes’_

_‘Are you smiling?’_

_‘No’_

_‘Damn,’_ JJ sends. Then, _‘I feel like I’m getting close tho’_. Then again, a few seconds later, _‘You wouldn’t tell me even if you were’_

_‘You’re not wrong’_

_‘The anticipation is killing me’_

_‘Why bother?’_

_‘I’m convinced it’ll be worth the effort’_

Yuri types out _‘why?’_ again, but decides he doesn’t really want to know the answer. Instead, he sends, _‘You’ll be disappointed_ ’

_‘We’ll see little bit’_

The text seems oddly worded, aborted and incomplete. Yuri waits a few minutes for a follow up, but he doesn’t get one. He reads it again and realizes “Little Bit” must be another stupid nickname like “Babe” and “Tiny Dancer.”

An exasperated huff tears out of Yuri’s throat. He doesn’t send a response, but he does save JJ’s number in his phone under “Shithead.”

The panic has receded.

Yuri resents the fact that talking to JJ actually proved to be of some help.


	3. Die Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mila teases, Yuuri gets drunk, Yuri gets dragged along for the ride, and JJ has a talent outside of figure skating. If you’re sensing there might be another GPF dance battle, you might not be wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The internet says the legal drinking age in Spain is 18, so here’s your warning for underage drinking (and people of legal drinking age providing alcohol to a minor). I’ve only known one person in my entire life so far who did not drink underage, so… deal with it. :P
> 
>  **EDIT:** Also, bear in mind that this was written before the Welcome to the Madness video was even previewed, back when it was just a song on the soundtrack with no story behind it. So in this fic, Welcome to the Madness is what I assumed it to be before it's release, and has been Yuri's exhibition program the entire season. Same outfit and makeup and the general feeling of anger and frustration, though, because it was so visually satisfying.

“Young hearts, out our minds,  
Runnin’ ‘til we outta time.  
Wild child’s lookin’ good,  
Livin’ hard, just like we should.  
Don’t care who’s watching when we tearin’ it up.  
That magic that we got, nobody can touch.  
  
Lookin’ for some trouble tonight.  
Take my hand, I’ll show you the wild side.  
Like it’s the last night of our lives,  
We’ll keep dancin’ ‘til we die.”  


\- [“Die Young” by Kesha](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOubzHCUt48)

* * *

 

At the banquet, Yakov and Lilia pull Yuri into stilted conversations with a grand total of four people before Yuri manages to slink off on his own. For the first half hour after, he expects them to drag him back into the fray with a synchronized speech about the importance of socialisation and networking. While Yakov certainly looks as if he wants to rant Yuri’s ear off, Yuri is surprised but relieved to see Lilia hold him back. She gives Yuri a mildly disapproving look from the crowd but seems content to do the talking for him. No doubt she expects he might say something to offend someone if placed under too much pressure.

Therefore, Yuri spends almost the entirety of the banquet lurking in one corner of the room. He takes a seat with his back to the wall and splits his time between watching cat videos on his phone and observing the other attendees as they drink and mingle. Compared to last year, tonight’s banquet has proven to be extremely boring so far. For the most part, the guests are on their best behavior. The only indiscretion Yuri catches comes in the form of Chris repeatedly topping off Yuuri’s glass of champagne when Yuuri isn’t looking; Yuuri soon grows tipsy as a result, but no one’s clothes have been removed yet, which seems to Yuri like a pretty big accomplishment.

“All this talking makes me thirsty,” Mila says when she plops down onto a seat next to Yuri.

She puts her head on his shoulder like she expects to be able to rest there, but Yuri shrugs her off and twists away. She sighs at him and slouches down with her legs stretched out in front of her instead.

“You know what else makes me thirsty?” she asks, poking at Yuri’s side.

Yuri bats at her hand and shifts his chair away from her. He can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s about to follow up with something suggestive. He doesn’t particularly want to hear what she has to say, but he already knows she’s going to answer her own question whether or not he responds, so he consents to play along.

“What?”

Mila grins at him. “Otabek.”

“ _What_?”

Yuri follows Mila’s gaze and finds Otabek in the crowd. Unlike Yuri, he doesn’t seem to have the luxury of hiding in corners and being antisocial. He’s been occupied for most of the night so far, holding polite conversations with a variety of people. Yuri thinks Otabek looks a little drained by it, but he knows he could also be projecting his own feelings on the matter. Even still, the usual straight line of Otabek’s shoulders is starting to slump. Yuri has no idea how a fellow introvert can tolerate so much chatter for so long, and he finds himself impressed by Otabek’s composure.

Next to Yuri, Mila makes no effort to disguise her ogling. Yuri recognizes the keen look on her face from the countless occasions she’s spent mooning over other people. He finds it incredibly aggravating and lets her know with a kick to her chair.

“Knock it off,” he says.

“You should introduce me,” she tells him.

“Introduce yourself,” he fires back.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to look desperate,” Mila says.

“So you want me to introduce you and pretend like you don’t have ulterior motives?”

“That’s the plan, yeah.”

“Not a chance,” Yuri says. “I know how this ends. You’ll be into him for a few months at most, then I’ll have to listen to you talk shit about him for just as long.”

“Woah, okay, it’s really cute how you’re getting all defensive and territorial over your new best friend, but you’re making a lot of assumptions. I was thinking more along the lines of a passionate one night stand, not a long distance romance with a stormy ending.”

Yuri can only scowl at her. He can’t stand the flippant way she talks about sex and romance, and he knows she’s well aware of that.

Mila looks back at him expectantly for a few moments. Then her mouth twitches into a teasing smirk and she says, “Unless this is you calling dibs.”

“What?”

“You and Otabek.”

“What about us?”

“You and Otabek _together_.”

Yuri kicks at Mila’s chair again. He’d kick _her_ if he hadn’t already learned better years ago; after the first several retaliatory chokeholds, ten-year-old Yuri came to the conclusion that he would likely regret taking Mila on in an actual fight.

Mila’s response is to laugh at him. She reaches out to ruffle his hair, but Yuri ducks away from her and changes seats to put more space between them.

“Not a lot of people back home would appreciate it, but there’s still a whole world of people out there who’d probably find it extremely cute,” Mila teases. “The Hero and the Fairy.”

“Fuck off.”

“You have to admit he’s good looking.”

“What does looking good have to do with anything?”

Whatever his complete lack of personal experience might imply, Yuri isn’t totally ignorant when it comes to love affairs, so he knows what the answer is without Mila having to say anything. He understands the process, that people who find one another physically attractive often engage in some combination of dating, having sex, or falling in love. He’s seen enough examples that it makes sense to an extent. He’s not so naïve that he can’t view these sorts of things from the perspective of other people, he simply doesn’t care to follow their example.

All the pining and flirting Mila, Georgi, and Viktor do seems tedious and unnecessary. As difficult as it is for Yuri to place his trust in others, the thought of intentionally opening himself up enough to let someone in that close makes him uneasy. Watching others engage in romance often makes it seems like a wasted effort, and sex has never been particularly high up on Yuri’s list of priorities. When the end results can be so ugly, why take things beyond the realm of friendship?

“You’re being purposefully obtuse,” Mila says.

“And you’re being lewd.”

“You’re such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude,” Yuri argues. “I’m just not interested.”

“Come on, not even a little?"

“No.”

“In Otabek or in anyone?”

“In anyone,” Yuri snarls.

He hates the bewildered tone Mila uses when she badgers him about these things. It makes him feel stupid, because he knows she doesn’t take him seriously. He hates even more that she keeps bringing it up whenever someone new waltzes into his life. First it was the teasing over his correspondence with Yuuko, now it’s his newfound friendship with Otabek. Yuri expects Mila will badger him about it for several weeks to come, given all the fuss the Yuri’s Angels have been making since he and Otabek were first spotted together. The online chatter still hasn’t died down.

Something about his response this time must knock her off track, though, because Mila shrugs and goes back to her indecent staring. “More for me then.”

Yuri wants to tell her to back off, but he’s not in the mood to be teased about it again, so he shuts his mouth and returns his attention to his phone. If he ignores the issue altogether, Mila should eventually drop it when she realizes she’s not getting a reaction out of him anymore. It means she’ll find something else to hound him about, but the pestering is so routine at this point he’s generally not all that surprised by any of the other subjects she chooses to throw at him.

“Yuuuriiioooooooooo!”

Yuuri stumbles over then. He’s trailed by Viktor, Phichit, and Chris, the last of which is in the process of topping off Yuuri’s glass again. They’re all clearly intoxicated. Yuuri and Viktor are further gone than the other two, but Chris doesn’t look as if he needs much more to start stripping. Then again, he doesn’t seem the type to need the encouragement of alcohol in the first place. Phichit, at least, appears closer to sober than truly drunk. Yuri suspects he’s been withholding on purpose. He likely wants a clear enough head to record every adventure of the evening.

Yuri meets them all with a flat stare. Still furious about that morning, he purposefully avoids looking directly at Viktor. The exhibition did nothing to erase Yuri’s bad mood, not with the way Viktor and Yuuri were all over one another. Yuri doesn’t know what they’re playing at with all their public displays of affection while offering no official statement concerning their relationship, but the press is eating it up. Some of it is good. Just as much of it is bad. All of it is “Viktor, Viktor, Viktor” again, and it irritates Yuri to no end.

“Hey, hey. Hey, Yurio,” Yuuri says.

“You’re drunk. Go away,” Yuri tells him.

“I’m not drunk. I would know if I was drunk. _Everyone_ would know if I was drunk.”

“Just because you’re not embarrassing yourself yet doesn’t mean you haven’t had too much to drink.”

“Hey, hey,” Yuuri says again. “No, I’m just tipsy. It’s like... you know when you hit that point where everything’s fun and you don’t feel awkward talking to people anymore?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s where I am right now.”

Mila snickers next to Yuri.  “I think I know what Viktor’s boy toy wants~” she says with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“ _Hey._ ” Yuuri looks suddenly very serious. He leans toward Mila and shows her as much of a glower as he can manage in his inebriated state. “That’s not very nice.”

“Focus, you idiot,” Yuri says. He snaps his fingers in Yuuri’s face to pull his attention away from Mila. “Either tell me why you’re bothering me or go away.”

“Okay, okay, okay.”

Yuuri stops to laugh at himself. He sways on his feet and leans backward, a move that sends him tumbling between Phichit and Viktor. They’re both a bit pink in the cheeks and laugh right along with him, slinging their arms around him to help support each other. Half the champagne in Yuuri’s glass sloshes out onto the floor.

“Let’s dance,” Yuuri says. “We need to have a re-match.”

“Yakov says no,” Yuri tells him.

“But _I_ say _yes_.”

“This is a formal event. You really want to make a scene again?”

“Hey, wait, no, no, no, no, we’re not going to do it here. We’re going to do it back at the hotel. Chris has a suite!”

Chris nods vigorously to corroborate this claim. He looks quite proud of himself for having such forethought.

Yuri knows he should refuse. He’s not sure he really wants to be around Yuuri and Chris again when they’re both drunk off their asses, even if the blackmail material would be plentiful. The last time involved more than enough secondhand embarrassment to last him a lifetime. There’s also still a pretty high probability that Yakov will find out about it no matter what location they choose; if Yuri agrees, he’s destined to get another lecture about disorderly conduct.

That doesn’t diminish the temptation. Yuri might not be the most social person by any stretch of the imagination, but he _is_ a dancer. If there’s one way to pull him out of his shell, it’s with loud, upbeat music, lively choreography, and the chance to prove his superiority over veteran skaters who aren’t as spry or limber as he is. He knows he would have won last time if not for the fact that their “judge” ended up being smitten with the competition.

“Fine,” Yuri says, “but Viktor’s not judging. He’s biased.”

“That’s okay, I’m going to dance, too!” Viktor says.

The fact that he can look at Yuri with a bright smile on his face after their exchange that morning makes Yuri’s blood boil.

“This is me versus the pig, not me versus the pig versus you,” Yuri argues.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Yuuri interrupts, flapping his free hand around and stumbling between them before they can start squabbling. “We’re doing pairs!”

“ _What_?”

“It’s going to be me and Viktor, versus Phicht and Chris, versus you and… and someone else. I don’t know, who do you want to dance with?”

“No one. This is bullshit,” Yuri seethes.

“Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”

“You literally just pulled the idea out of your ass.”

“I guess you forfeit then,” Viktor says.

Yuri wants to hit something. Mostly he wants to punch the idiotic grin off of Viktor’s face, because he’s convinced this is somehow Viktor’s doing, but he can’t do that without getting into trouble, so the next best thing seems to be to beat Viktor at whatever game he’s trying to play.

“What? Fuck no,” Yuri says. “Mila, pair up with me.”

Mila has the audacity to laugh at him. “And let you throw me around and stomp on my feet? I don’t think so.”

“Hypocrite,” Yuri sneers. “You can lead if you want to. You throw me around all the time.”

“I don’t know, you haven’t really been very nice to me tonight.”

“I’ll introduce you to Otabek.”

“We both know you won’t follow through. Nice try, though.”

Before Yuri can counter the statement, another voice cuts in with, “I’ll do it.”

Yuri knows what to expect before he even turns to look. Not only does he know that voice too well by now, but with the way the last twenty-four hours have gone, Yuri is growing fairly confident in his ability to predict when and where JJ will decide to pop up.

The one thing he fails to anticipate is the look on JJ’s face. Yuri assumes he’ll see a teasing smile and eyes full of mirth. What he sees instead is an arrogant grin coupled with the hard gaze JJ showed him during their conversation about Viktor that morning. JJ isn’t looking at Yuri at all; he’s looking at Viktor. Everything about his expression and his posture is brash and confrontational, as if to say, “You’re going to acknowledge me, and then I’m going to crush you.”

Even drunk, Viktor seems to recognize the opposition, because his face suddenly takes on the distant, flat look he wears in the place of negative emotions.

Yuri wants to turn JJ down out of habit, but he can’t deny that the show of aggression and competitiveness appeals to the part of him that yearns to knock Viktor off of his throne.

“Is there a reason you keep appearing out of nowhere?” Yuri asks anyway.

“You’d all leave me out if I didn’t,” JJ says.

None of them can argue that. Phichit at least has the grace to look a bit sheepish, but the rest just sort of stare in an absent-minded way, like they’re not sure what to make of JJ. To JJ’s credit, he doesn’t falter. If anything, he grows to look more brazen, with his “King JJ” persona out in full force.

Yuuri stumbles again. He pulls away from Phichit’s and Viktor’s supporting arms and places himself in front of Viktor. His expression looks sullen. It takes Yuri a few moments to realize the idiot’s feeling a little protective of his coach-slash… -whatever Viktor is to him. That Yuuri can even sense the tension while drunk seems impressive. Yuri never quite noticed the strain between JJ and Viktor until that morning; he wasn’t under the impression that Yuuri noticed it either.

“Do you even know how to ballroom dance?” Yuuri asks.

JJ’s face creases like he finds the question offensive. “My parents are Olympic champion ice dancers. They’ve been ballroom dancing for decades. You don’t think I might have learned?”

“You’re not your parents,” Yuuri argues. “Yes or no.”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at the exchange. “I never even agreed to partner with you.”

“Do you want to win?” JJ asks.

He’s still not looking at Yuri. It would piss Yuri off if he didn’t find the way JJ kept combatively staring Viktor down sort of intriguing. Yuri has never known anyone else to look at Viktor like that. Most people trip over themselves in hero-worship. Those who don’t still tend to be cordial and deferential.

The novelty of it has Yuri studying JJ a little more closely in relation to Viktor. They’re roughly of a height. They’d have to stand back to back for Yuri to notice any difference. Even then, he’s not sure there would be much of one. JJ looks like he might be a little broader in the shoulders, and he’s definitely thicker in the chest. He looks bigger overall as a result, which wouldn’t matter in the least, except that it’s one of several things that differentiate JJ from Viktor. JJ doesn’t have Viktor’s elegance, but he has a very dynamic energy at nineteen that Viktor struggles to maintain at nearly twenty-eight, and an aggressive sort of masculinity that Viktor never really cared for. The contrast is striking. JJ might be well on his way to becoming the next big name in figure skating, but he will never be another Viktor — not because he lacks the talent, but because he’s already set himself apart.

Under any other circumstance, acknowledging JJ’s success in making a name for himself while rejecting almost everything that worked to put Viktor on top would be maddening, especially considering how hard Yuri has struggled to separate himself from Viktor’s legacy while the whole world insists on comparing him to his rinkmate. Deep down, Yuri knows that frustration is what has strengthened the hostility he’s felt toward JJ. Of course the teasing doesn’t help, but Yuri’s dealt with similar treatment for most of his life; he’s learned that being young and small and having a pretty face will inevitably draw that sort of harassment from people, other boys in particular. All this time, he could have easily ignored JJ if not for the fact that JJ has done something Yuri hasn’t come close to accomplishing yet.

Yuri can feel a little spark of annoyance flare to life, but the longer he spends staring between JJ and Viktor, the more he finds himself gravitating toward JJ’s audacity. Viktor’s response to JJ’s challenging stare is to look more and more impassive. Yuri desperately wishes he could figure out what Viktor’s thinking, but he knows from experience that he’ll probably never manage it.

“Fine,” Yuri says. He makes sure to keep his voice low so he doesn’t seem too eager. “Who’s judging?”

“Emil,” JJ says without a moment’s hesitation. “He’s the most unbiased person here.”

No one has any objections. Yuuri’s face screws up like he’s trying to give the suggestion some serious thought, but it doesn’t last long.

“Okay,” he says. Then he takes a deep breath and announces, a little louder, “To the hotel!”

Chris and Phichit cheer in excitement. Viktor throws his arm around Yuuri again and starts stumbling away with him. Yuri expects Viktor’s petty ass to shove right by JJ, but Viktor steps around him instead and avoids looking at him altogether. Another smile stretches across Viktor’s face when he and Yuuri start babbling together about what music they should use. JJ doesn’t make any move to get in their way, but Yuri sees his jaw tighten in response to Viktor’s apparent indifference.

“I’ll go find Emil,” Mila offers, rising from her chair. “I’m not missing this.”

“Tell Yakov we’re leaving,” Yuri demands.

Mila snorts at him. “Go tell him yourself.”

She slips back into the crowd before Yuri can proceed to bitch at her.

This leaves Yuri alone with JJ. Though such a circumstance seems to be becoming rather routine, Yuri doesn’t care to linger for very long. They might have some sort of unspoken agreement when it comes to their thoughts on Viktor, but that certainly doesn’t make them friends. Yuri stands and searches for Otabek in the crowd again. When Yuri finds him, he begins to head in that direction without sparing JJ a second glance.

JJ, naturally, doesn’t let him go far.

“Wait a second, Little Bit.”

Yuri could keep going. JJ doesn’t restrain him, just turns to watch him walk off, but Yuri also knows there’s a good chance JJ will follow if he continues to ignore him.

So Yuri stops and faces him with an annoyed sounding, “What?”

JJ must still be suffering under the effects of the bitterness Viktor makes him feel, because his tone of voice is more serious than usual. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks.

“Of course I know what I’m doing,” Yuri snaps. His glare is more defensive than truly angry.

“You just look more classical ballet than ballroom.”

JJ’s assessment isn’t wrong. Even before Lilia, most of Yuri’s dance training came in the form of ballet. He has experience with other forms, but ballroom has never been much of a fixture in his life. Though Yuri understands the basics, studying it in depth always seemed rather unnecessary.

He doesn’t want to admit that Yuuri (and therefore Viktor) might have an advantage over him, though, so he says, “You lead, I follow. I get it. As long as _you_ really know what _you’re_ doing, I don’t think it’s going to be hard for us to win over a bunch of drunks.”

“You really know nothing about me, do you?”

“I know you have an ego.”

JJ’s short laugh sounds a little scathing. “We all have egos. Even Katsuki has an ego.”

As much as Yuri wishes he could continue to hate everything about JJ, he can’t deny the satisfaction that curls warm in his chest when JJ doesn’t call Yuuri by his given name.

Instead of belaboring the point, JJ asks, “If I sent you a video, how long would it take you to pick up some of the choreography?”

“Not long. Why?”

“You have any preference for what song we use?”

“I don’t give a shit,” Yuri says. He thinks better of it a moment later and adds, “Something fast. I’m not slow dancing with you.”

“Fast doesn’t mean we won’t have to get close,” JJ warns him.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think a lot of your attitude is bravado and you’re always at risk of getting in over your head.”

Yuri wants to deny it but knows he can’t. He’s been putting on airs for weeks now, showing the world the strong, confident image he wants people to associate him with. After his breakdown yesterday, Yuri doesn’t know how much longer he can feasibly maintain it. He pushes too far beyond his limits faster than he can physically and mentally handle. As the pressure continues to mount, he knows the cracks are only going to widen. He’s going to crash at some point, he simply doesn’t know precisely when.

JJ must know that. Yuri doesn’t remember seeing him immediately after stepping off the ice, but he knows JJ was around. Everyone witnessed Yuri’s collapse after his long program; anyone paying attention to him after would have seen him withdraw. Only Otabek and Lilia were in that bathroom, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that JJ saw Yuri deteriorate beforehand. All it takes is the memory of JJ’s hand squeezing his in comfort to convince Yuri that JJ has seen a lot more than Yuri wants him to.

Yuri hates it. He doesn’t want to be so transparent, but he doesn’t know what to do to change that.

“Just send me the video,” he snaps. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

He turns away again before JJ can say anything else. Thankfully, JJ doesn’t stop him this time. Yuri is glad for it. He doesn’t care to explain himself to anyone — least of all to JJ. He doesn’t think he can trust JJ any more than he trusts Viktor. However different the two might be, they’re both as much of a threat to Yuri’s success.

Yuri skirts around the crowd, sliding by people without making eye contact. He glances around to make sure Yakov hasn’t noticed anything amiss, but Yakov is still deep in conversation and doesn’t spare Yuri a single glance. The same can’t be said for Lilia, whose sharp eyes lock onto him despite Yuri’s best efforts to remain subtle. She frowns at him when he tries to look innocent. There isn’t a doubt in Yuri’s mind that she knows what’s going on, but she does nothing more than shake her head once in disapproval before turning her back on him, as if to say, “Go make your mistakes. Just make sure you learn from them.”

He finds Otabek a few meters away and approaches when Otabek breaks off from whatever polite chat he was previously engaged in. Yuri grabs him by the arm before Otabek can go too far. He puts on his most earnest face in response to Otabek’s obvious concern.

“Come back to the hotel with me,” Yuri says.

“What’s wrong?” Otabek asks.

“Nothing. They’re just dragging me into another dance-off and I don’t want to go alone.”

Yuri tries to sound annoyed so Otabek doesn’t think he agreed to it without much persuasion, but Otabek’s expression eases into something that would look blank on anyone else but actually makes Otabek look vaguely amused.

“Okay.”

“Katsudon decided we’re doing it in pairs this time. I have to dance with JJ,” Yuri complains. He’s pretty sure he already knows the answer, but he makes himself look even more earnest with his follow up question, just in case Otabek’s feeling generous. “Unless you dance with me instead?”

“I don’t dance,” Otabek says.

Yuri scoffs at him. “I can’t believe you just stared me in the eye and said that with a straight face.”

“It’s true.”

“So, what, you step off the ice and suddenly you don’t know how to move your feet?”

One corner of Otabek’s mouth twitches like it might rise up. “Something like that.”

Yuri makes an exasperated noise and rolls his eyes. “Fine. JJ it is then.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I can’t stand him.”

“Something tells me that extends to most people.”

Yuri gives Otabek a light shove to one shoulder. Otabek’s mouth twitches again in response.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Otabek asks.

“Let’s just go,” Yuri says.

“Go grab our coats. I’ll meet you outside. Let me tell my coach I’m leaving.”

“Why don’t you just text him?” Yuri gripes.

Otabek gives him a level eyed look of reproach that makes Yuri suddenly very certain that Otabek is someone’s responsible older brother. The way Otabek gently ushers him in the direction of the exit only further confirms Yuri’s suspicions. He’s not yet sure what to make of this information, but he thinks it might be important when it comes to understanding how Otabek chooses to handle their interactions.

They separate long enough for Otabek to find his coach and Yuri to do as he was told and retrieve their outdoor jackets. Yuuri, Viktor, Phichit, and Chris haven’t even left the venue yet. They’re all talking excitedly just inside, laughing as they stumble around struggling to pull their coats on. Yuri breezes right by them and heads outside to wait for Otabek by the motorcycle he rented.

He doesn’t know what to expect from the rest of the night, but Yuri thinks leaving the banquet behind feels a bit like freedom.

* * *

The song JJ picks is predictably annoying, full of repeated “tell me, Baby Girl”s that make Yuri want to simultaneously puke and throw his fist into JJ’s face the next time he sees him. Yuri has no real evidence to support his assumptions, but he convinces himself that JJ chose the song to mock him, just like that fucking “ladies first” comment JJ made back in Moscow. These jibes at his feminine appearance wouldn’t bother Yuri in the least if he didn’t know for a fact that people look down on him for it.

Yuri doesn’t immediately tell JJ to fuck off the way he would like. Instead, while he and Otabek wait in the hotel lobby for the rest of their group to arrive, Yuri watches the video JJ sent him on his phone, and he practices the steps as much as he can without a willing partner around. It isn’t until he’s seen it halfway through that Yuri realizes the two people dancing in the video are JJ and Isabella.

The video itself was posted by Isabella. On a whim, Yuri clicks on her username and conducts a quick search through her account. There are several more videos of the two of them just like it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuri swears passionately.

“What?” Otabek asks, peering over Yuri’s shoulder.

“JJ wasn’t joking.”

“About?”

“About how he knows what he’s doing.”

Yuri goes back to the video JJ chose and watches it all the way through. He wants to find something to critique about it, but JJ and Isabella have clearly been very well trained. At most, the worst Yuri can say is that it’s uncomfortably sexual. JJ and Isabella have an undeniable chemistry that Yuri doubts he’ll be able to imitate. They share sensual little touches throughout the entirety of the dance, and they only take their eyes off of one another when JJ spins Isabella around. Everything about the way they move together embodies lust and longing.

It makes Yuri faintly queasy, and he wonders — not for the first time, and certainly not for the last — why they felt the need to put the brakes on their relationship.

“I’m so fucked,” Yuri says. “How does he expect me to do this?”

“You could drop out,” Otabek suggests.

“And lose to Viktor and Katsudon? Fuck no.”

Yuri resolves himself to the challenge and tries to emulate the way Isabella moves. Anxiety makes him stiff and awkward. No matter how many settling breaths he takes, he can feel it creeping down his spine to settle in a pit in his stomach. Yuri knows what he is, and he knows what he is not. “Sexy” is one of those things he most certainly is not.

“Tell me I look fucking stupid,” he says.

“You look fine,” Otabek tells him instead.

“Fine doesn’t mean I’m any good.”

“When everyone else is drunk, does it matter how good you are as long as you can stay on your feet?”

It’s the same point Yuri made to JJ, but it doesn’t make him feel any more confident this time around.

He doesn’t have long to get the hang of it. The others spill into the hotel before Yuri can start the video a third time. Yuuri, Viktor, and Chris are all obnoxiously loud. Phichit would be more tolerable, at least, if the others weren’t such a terrible influence on him. There’s a brunet with them Yuri only has a vague recollection of. He frequently seems to be nearby whenever Chris is around, so Yuri assumes he’s either an assistant coach, a choreographer, Chris’s boyfriend, or some combination of the three. JJ trails behind them with Emil, Mila, and Sara and Michele Crispino in toe.

“Yuuuriiioooooooooo!” Yuuri crows excitedly. “Come on, come on! Up up we go!”

Yuuri grabs him by the arm and starts waltzing toward the elevators with him. Yuri doesn’t know whether he should shout at him for being an idiot or panic over the fact that he didn’t have more time to prepare. He settles for looking back at Otabek helplessly.

They all crowd into one of the elevators. Yuri manages to pull away from Yuuri and slinks around to hide behind Otabek in one corner. Otabek is kind enough to shield him, but Yuri _knows_ there’s some amusement in the vacant expression on Otabek’s face. Yuri feels only slightly betrayed by it. On the other hand, it’s nice to see that Otabek can actually be amused.

The first stop the elevator makes does not bring them to Chris’s floor. Instead, Yuuri stumbles out on his own and calls through one of the nearby doors, “Mari! Minako-sensei! Come party with us!”

Yuri drops his forehead against the back of Otabek’s shoulder and curses under his breath, “Fuuuuuck.”

Yuuri’s older sister and ballet teacher soon join them, each clearly thrilled to be invited along. Their presence causes an added weight to settle on Yuri’s shoulders. He doesn’t dislike either of them. Mari’s attention can be a little overwhelming, but she’s conscientious enough to give him his space, which is more than Yuri can say for a lot of his fans. As for Minako, Yuri has occasionally entertained himself with thoughts of her and Lilia being stuck in the same room together, with nothing more than a few bottles of wine and their history as prima ballerinas to get them through the night.

Even so, having two extra witnesses to what will soon occur feels like a little too much pressure for someone already struggling to battle through his growing doubts.

Unfortunately, the rest of the journey up to Chris’s floor is short. Yuri lingers behind as much as he can when Chris leads the way down the hall to his suite, but there’s no avoiding the inevitable.

JJ confronts him again as soon as they’re inside.

“What do you want to drink?” he asks.

Yuri blinks at him, then watches Yuuri, Viktor, and Chris head over to a large assortment of alcohol Chris must have purchased with tonight in mind.

“I don’t drink,” is Yuri’s instinctive response. He immediately regrets the admission when he thinks it makes him sound young and stupid.

Viktor shouts, “You betray your Russian blood!”

“Fuck off, Viktor!” Yuri shouts back.

Mila, needing absolutely no excuse to tease him, taunts, “Yuri doesn’t like the taste~!”

JJ rolls his eyes. Yuri can’t tell if the gesture was meant for him or for Mila and Viktor. He wants to snap at JJ anyway, but JJ leaves him standing by the doorway with Otabek and goes to rummage through the drinks. He mixes a few things together and comes back to offer Yuri a cup of something vibrantly red-orange.

“I said I don’t drink,” Yuri says, but he takes the cup anyway and lifts it to give it a quick sniff. He is only slightly mollified when he doesn’t find it immediately unpleasant.

“You need to relax,” JJ counters.

Yuri glares at him but can’t pretend as if JJ doesn’t have a point.

JJ’s mouth finally curves into one of his genial smiles. “It’ll make me more tolerable,” he adds.

“I doubt that,” Yuri grumbles.

He glances at Otabek to see what he thinks, but Otabek’s expression is too guarded to give him much of an idea. When Otabek shrugs, Yuri decides that’s permission enough and takes a cautious sip. The taste of alcohol is so faint it’s practically non-existent; he doesn’t even have the chance to hate it.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Pineapple juice, cranberry juice, and vodka,” JJ says.

Yuri doesn’t want to admit that it isn’t terrible, so he glares at JJ and says, “Aren’t you being irresponsible?”

“What, you think I’m straight-laced or something?”

“I never said that.”

“I’ve done my fair share of irresponsible shit.”

“Such as?”

“More recently? Unprotected sex.”

Yuri chokes on his drink and very nearly throws the rest of it all over JJ when JJ has the gall to laugh at him.

Mila, somewhat predictably, chooses that exact moment to sidle over. For someone who only a short while ago claimed that Otabek made her “thirsty,” she does an awfully good job of pretending she doesn’t notice Otabek standing nearby while she stares avidly at JJ.

“Speaking of,” she says, in a voice that doesn’t sound as innocent as she probably means it to. “Where’s your fianceé? She didn’t want to come?”

JJ’s smile doesn’t even grow strained when he responds, “Nah, she’s not feeling well.”

“They broke up,” Yuri blurts out.

He doesn’t know why he said it. Maybe it’s to get back at JJ for being crude. Maybe it’s to keep Mila’s attention on JJ instead of Otabek. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. The only thing Yuri knows for sure is that the bullshit answer JJ gave Mila pisses him off with its dishonesty.

JJ actually looks mildly annoyed. He frowns at Yuri when the revelation causes Mila to take an obvious interest.

“Woah, when did that happen?” Mila asks.

“Last night,” Yuri answers.

JJ silently mouths something at him. Yuri isn’t completely sure what it is, but it looks a lot like “Bitch.” JJ's definitely not pleased even if he doesn't look truly angry. Apparently he didn’t want word to get out yet. Yuri feels immediately satisfied and smirks into his drink.

“That’s too bad,” Mila says. “You two looked so good together.”

It sounds like a genuine compliment, but Mila is also looking at JJ in that intent way she looks at boys when she’s interested in getting in their pants, so Yuri knows she’s not the least bit troubled by this turn of events.

Around them, the suite is a riot of noise and activity. Viktor and Minako take it upon themselves to pour drinks for anyone who’ll take one, while Yuuri, Chris, and Phichit stumble here and there trying to figure out the best way to move all of the furniture around the sitting area to make enough room for dancing. If Yuri was looking for an uptight figure in the bunch, he finds it in Michele Crispino, who alternates between lecturing Yuuri, Chris, and Phichit about putting the furniture back where it belongs when they’re done, and shouting at Viktor for daring to offer his sister a drink. The unnamed brunet stands off to the side looking mildly exasperated by the whole thing. If he’s there to make sure things don’t get too out of hand, he does a very poor job of it.

Yuri lingers outside the crowd. He sticks close to Otabek by the wall, watches the video JJ sent him a few more times while he has the chance, and drinks heavily in the hopes that the mix of juice and vodka really will make the evening more bearable. It takes the other idiots so long to figure out what the do with the furniture, Yuri finishes his first drink and orders JJ to make him another one. JJ does so with another eyeroll and an exaggerated bow.

“So do you think I have a chance with JJ tonight?” Mila whispers to Yuri in Russian when JJ’s out of earshot.

“No,” Yuri says.

“Why not?”

“He’s obviously still into his ex.”

“Why’d they break up then?” Mila asks.

“Why the fuck are you asking me?”

“You’re getting sort of friendly with him, aren’t you?”

Yuri pulls a face, outraged by the very thought.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mila says. She throws her arms around him. “Finally making friends. I’m beginning to think you have a type, though.”

Yuri ducks under her restraining arms and pushes her away. He moves to stand on the other side of Otabek and uses Otabek’s wider body as a shield again. Otabek is either endlessly kind or already resigned to his fate, because he plays along with another twitch of the mouth that almost looks like he might be smiling but could just as easily be a grimace.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Yuuri suddenly shouts from the middle of the room. He throws both of his arms in the air like he wants to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “Who’s going first?”

“Draw lots,” Emil suggests.

Then there’s a flurry of movement as Yuuri and Chris scrounge around for the appropriate materials. The unnamed brunet saves the day by producing a small pad of paper and a pen. Yuuri and Chris make short work of writing the names of each pair down, folding each sheet of paper, mixing them up, and encouraging Emil to draw a pairing at random.

“Yuuri and Viktor!” Emil announces.

The couple in question cheers victoriously. Yuri makes a faint gagging noise and stares at his phone so he doesn’t have to see the huge grins on their faces.

“Katsuki ended up staying in Detroit for a while, right?” JJ says when he returns with another drink.

“Yeah,” Yuri answers absently.

He snatches the cup from JJ and gulps more down. He’s not entirely sure how the alcohol’s supposed to make him feel, but he doesn’t think it’s working yet, because everything still annoys the shit out of him.

“I bet he picks a Bublé song,” JJ continues.

He leans back against the wall on Yuri’s other side. When the music starts up, JJ laughs and says, “I was right. Katsuki looks like a Bublé kind of guy.”

Yuri has no idea what makes one “a Bublé kind of guy,” but after the “like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more” line, he determines that the song is grossly romantic and immediately hates everything about Bublé on principle.

The amount of noise and activity in the room makes it impossible for Yuri to keep focusing on the video JJ sent him, so he slides his phone into his pocket and glares at the dancing couple instead. Yuuri and Viktor smile widely at one another. They have identical expressions on their faces, the kind that say they have no idea how they got so lucky. Yuuri touches Viktor’s face with reverent hands, and Viktor crows excitedly every time Yuuri dips him. Yuri thinks it’s enough to make anyone sick, but no one else seems to be revolted by the display. Chris pouts a bit, but as soon as one of them does something the least bit sexual, he whistles excitedly. Phichit has his camera out to record the whole damned thing. Mari joins him, snapping an endless stream of pictures.

A minute or so into the song, JJ pushes himself off the wall and turns toward Yuri. When Yuri scowls at him, JJ holds his hands out and motions him closer.

“Come on, we should practice while we can,” JJ says.

Yuri knows there’s logic in the suggestion, but he doesn’t care to make things easy. “Why?” he asks.

“Because I’m not convinced you can actually go through with this when you hate being touched.”

“Who says I hate being touched?”

JJ laughs at him again. “No one has to say anything. You’re one of the most standoffish people I’ve ever met.”

Yuri’s scowl darkens. He hates that JJ can read him so easily. In this case, Yuri knows it doesn’t take much perception to get an idea as to how he feels about unsolicited physical contact, but given the way JJ’s been handling their more recent interactions, he’s beginning to think that JJ’s a more discerning individual than Yuri cares to give him credit for. Only now that the topic’s been broached does the thought strike Yuri that JJ, for all his teasing, has never actually touched him — and he knows, somehow, without even asking, that JJ must have been purposefully restraining himself, because he seems like he would be a very tactile person otherwise. Helping Yuri down from the podium hardly counts when Yuri was the one to blindly take his hand.

After swallowing down another long gulp of his drink, Yuri holds his cup out to Otabek, who dutifully takes it.

With determination born from spite, Yuri clamps one hand on JJ’s shoulder. He grabs at one of JJ’s hands with the other and wraps his fingers around JJ’s palm.

“There, see? I’m touching you,” he says.

JJ’s mouth lifts into one of his teasing smiles. “I think you live to be contradictory.”

“I think _you_ live to piss me off.”

“I don’t always do it on purpose, you know.”

JJ disentangles himself and pulls off his suit jacket. Then he loosens his tie, opens a couple of buttons on his shirt, and rolls up his sleeves.

“Loosen up a bit,” he says. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

Yuri wants to refuse just for the sake of being difficult. He decides not to, if only because he hates wearing a suit and he’s already spent way too long buttoned up. He shrugs out of his jacket, rips his tie off, and opens his collar in quick succession. The discarded articles of clothing end up in a small pile on the floor with his and Otabek’s outdoor jackets. There’s no immediate sense of comfort, but at least he no longer feels quite as stifled.

JJ holds out a hand again. Yuri takes it after only a slight hesitation. Their palms slot together. Yuri puts his other hand back on JJ’s shoulder.

“My upper arm, not my shoulder,” JJ says.

Yuri lowers his hand a bit as instructed. JJ’s other hand comes behind him to settle against his back.

They take a few steps together. Yuri knows he’s too tense. It makes him clumsy. His immediate instinct is to pull away and abandon the whole idea, but then he hears Viktor and Yuuri giggling together over the sound of the music. Determination rushes back in on a wave.

“Take your mean face off,” JJ tells him. “This isn’t supposed to be gritty. You’re not doing a quad. Normally I’d say you should look at me like you want me, but if you can manage not to look like you want to kill me, I think we’ll be fine.”

“I can fake it,” Yuri says.

JJ laughs lightly, but it doesn’t sound callous at all. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Yuri struggles to relax his face. He thinks it should be easier than working the rigidity out of his spine, but he’s not sure he manages it. JJ keeps smiling at him like he’s amused.

They move together until the song ends. It’s not as fast as Yuri knows most of their dance will be, but it gives him the opportunity to get his bearings. The others congratulate Yuuri and Viktor with wild cheering and a round of applause. Emil chooses another piece of paper at random and calls Phichit and Chris up next, much to Yuri’s relief.

“That’s better,” JJ says when Yuri starts to follow along with more confidence.

“I told you I know what I’m doing,” Yuri counters, even though he knows it’s painfully obvious that he’s newer to this than he wants everyone to believe.

“Do me a favor and push your hair out of your face,” JJ tells him then.

“Why?”

“You look less confident when you hide behind it.”

Yuri almost argues that the whole point of it is to mask how little confidence he really feels, but he doesn’t want to admit that to someone he’s not sure he can confide in. He removes his hand from JJ’s upper arm just long enough to brush his bangs back. He immediately feels exposed and vulnerable, but Yuri stubbornly resists the temptation to shake his hair back into his face.

“You’ve got killer eyes,” JJ says. “You should let people see them more often.”

“Fuck off,” Yuri snaps back. He can hear how genuine JJ sounds, and he doesn’t understand why JJ bothers when Yuri has been purposefully belligerent.

“All this time I’ve been trying to figure out if they’re green or blue.”

“They’re green, you dumb fuck.”

“No, there’s definitely some blue in there, too,” JJ says, as if Yuri’s insulting tone hardly bothers him at all.

“Is that the real reason you told me to push my hair back? So you could see better?”

“Nah, I meant what I said about you looking less confident. Solving that mystery is just a bonus.”

Yuri shuts his mouth instead of arguing the way he wants to. He finds it difficult to look JJ in the eye now that he knows JJ’s peering at him closely enough to distinguish a mix of color Yuri’s never cared to pay attention to before. Yuri feels off-balance again. This marks the second time in a week that someone’s complimented his eyes, and even though Yuri wants brush it off now that it’s JJ making the observations instead of Otabek, he still feels that weird rush of warmth that filled his chest the first time.

He’s not used to the consideration. He’s spent years trying to stand out, to set himself apart from the rest, to find a place for himself in a world still completely enamored with Viktor. Sometimes he wonders if he really has it in him to do that. With the constant comparisons, it’s difficult to feel like he matters, and he begins to question whether or not there really is anything special about him. Maybe the things he has in common with Viktor are all he has. Maybe there _is_ nothing else there, and all the effort he’s made to cultivate an image all his own will be for nothing in the end.

A comment or two about his eyes shouldn’t matter, but it makes him feel like, _finally_ , there are at least two people who might notice him for who he is rather than who the world thinks he should be.

With Otabek, it was easier to accept. Otabek is quietly supportive. He’s unhurried and undemanding. He’s strong arms and sturdy shoulders that feel like safety, and he has the calm, even sort of voice that puts Yuri immediately at ease. Otabek looks distant and brooding, but Yuri knows him now as gentle and forgiving. He’s patient with Yuri in a way Yuri has never really experienced before. Being around Otabek makes the rapid spinning of Yuri’s world slow down for a little while. There are no expectations, no assumptions. Otabek sees him, and Yuri doesn’t feel the need to hide away.

JJ is different. His arms are strong, and his shoulders are sturdy, and Yuri can see how that alone might make someone feel safe, but he lacks Otabek’s serenity. JJ is loud and intense. He looks more aggressive than Otabek, even in those moments when he’s behaving more reservedly. JJ wears too much on his sleeve. At times, JJ seems like he could be dangerous, not because he’s cruel or forceful, but because he’s already sprung so far ahead, and Yuri thinks trying to keep up would be disastrous. He’s afraid he can’t match JJ’s strides through life — is _convinced_ that he can’t, even now that he’s won gold, because his best always seems to be barely enough, and JJ’s best is exceptional.

And yet, over the last twenty-four hours, Yuri hasn’t been able to ignore the feeling that JJ, like Otabek, looks at him and actually sees beyond the image of the fearless punk Yuri strives to project off the ice, further down into the depths of his being, to the pieces of himself Yuri only feels capable of expressing when he skates, because at least then he can pretend as if those vulnerabilities aren’t real.

Eventually, Yuri and JJ come to a silent agreement to shift closer and pick up the pace of their steps. They practice a spin and a dip, and the movements start coming more naturally. Whatever song Chris and Phichit chose is faster than the Bublé song. As Yuri has come to expect from the likes of Chris, it’s also plainly sexual. He flicks his gaze over to them a few times to assess their dancing. They’re clumsier than Yuuri and Viktor were. Chris spends a lot of time being purposefully provocative while Phichit laughs and eggs him on. They’re not as drunk as Yuuri and Viktor, but they stumble around more because they’re too busy goofing off to put a decent routine together on the spot.

Yuri knows this competition doesn’t matter, knows he’s taking it too seriously, that he won’t get anything from it if he wins, but he still can’t stomach the idea of losing. Viktor sits on the couch draped around Yuuri, looking as if he’s never been so content in his life, and Yuri feels the embers of anger and betrayal burning low in his gut. He hates that Viktor has found something beyond anything Yuri could ever hope to discover. It puts Viktor one step ahead. It’s one more triumph in a long line of victories, and it’s one Yuri doesn’t know how to emulate, much less surpass.

“Yuri,” JJ says.

Chris’s and Phichit’s music is coming to a spirited end. Yuri only tears his eyes away from Viktor and glances back up because JJ used his name instead of one of the silly nicknames he’s decided on. JJ continues to smile at him, but Yuri can see that the hard, determined look from before is quickly returning to his eyes.

“When it’s our turn, you don’t look at Viktor. You keep your eyes on me.”

Yuri can hear the lingering bitterness in JJ’s voice, and he knows that JJ is as stupidly serious about this dance-off as he is. Strangely, that knowledge is reassuring. Yuri can’t question JJ’s dedication, because he knows JJ has just as much to prove as he does.

“Right,” Yuri says, without his usual hostile tone.

They come to a stop and break apart. Yuri turns away before JJ can look too closely again. Even if they’ve found some common ground, Yuri still doesn’t want JJ to know just how easy it is to wound him, how even something as stupid and insignificant as this dance-off is enough to make him question his own worth.

He wants to keep pretending that it’s Viktor’s fault, that Viktor leaving without a care is what caused all these misgivings, but Yuri knows he’s fooling himself. Viktor is just the most recent in a long line of defeats and disappointments. Yuri isn’t breaking — he’s been broken for a long time already. Longer than Viktor has been in his life. Longer than Yuri can really remember. Deep down, Yuri knows that Viktor is only a small part of a much bigger issue, that beating him at this — at anything — won’t solve a damned thing. It won’t even _begin_ to put the pieces back together. All it will provide is a temporary relief for the pain.

It’s all any of this has been. Just one temporary relief after another.

But even that, however momentary, seems better than nothing at all.

The music ends. The shouts and applause rise in volume again. Yuri steps back toward Otabek to take his drink. He downs the rest of it quickly.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Yuri tells him. “You know you want to dance with me.”

Otabek snorts in response. “Good luck,” he says.

Yuri can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. He pretends otherwise, shoving his empty cup back into Otabek’s hands. Otabek meets Yuri’s frown with a small, patient half-smile, and Yuri feels the ache in his chest diminish somewhat.

“JJ and Yuri!” Emil’s voice calls out over the noisy crowd. “You’re up!”

Yuri struggles for poise. He drifts into the open space in the center of the room while JJ works with Emil to set up the music. Mila cheers loudly from her position next to Sara Crispino. Mari has her phone ready to take more pictures. She says something to him in Japanese that Yuri doesn’t understand, but it sounds supportive.

JJ joins him. Neither of them glance toward Viktor. They stare at each other instead, and it’s not as awkward as Yuri thinks it should be. A look of determination passes between them. Anticipation makes Yuri’s heart beat fast, but the anxiety he felt on the way up to the room is muted. He’s surprised to realize that in this moment, he actually _trusts_ JJ to an extent. JJ knows what he’s doing. JJ understands what Yuri feels toward Viktor. JJ doesn’t have any intention of losing either, and Yuri thinks that, maybe, JJ won’t let him down.

The music starts, and Yuri does what he does best.

He performs.

He didn’t beat Viktor’s short program record by over-analyzing every move. He did it by clearing his head and relying on muscle memory to carry him through the motions. In this instance, he doesn’t have much to rely on. He and JJ didn’t have the time or the space to practice the dance all the way through. But Yuri watched the video. He can recall the way Isabella moved. He replays the memory in his head and follows along to the best of his abilities. The effort is a bit rough, but he knows when to step in, and when to step out. He knows when to turn, and when to fall into a dip. Yuri lets their surroundings fade far enough into the background that he isn’t distracted by the shouting and the cheering, and he lets his body feel the music — not the aggravating words, but the beat, the rhythm, and the melody.

He mimics the little touches he saw Isabella bestow. The brush of her fingertips along JJ’s jaw. The way she leaned into him every time he pulled her near, like she could never quite get close enough to satisfy her longing. It isn’t awkward when Yuri doesn’t let himself think about it. Between he and JJ, the dance has no meaning beyond what it can help them achieve over Viktor. Each suggestive glance, each racy touch or pose is simply a means to an end. Yuri will do anything to triumph, even if it means pretending to want someone he can barely tolerate. Of course, he can’t project the same level of sensuality JJ and Isabella shared together — not when he lacks the experience, not when he and JJ lack the connection — but he knows how to fake it, knows from observation how two people that want one another look at each other. He knows what it looks like to yearn, to _crave_. And, really, those feelings aren’t so different from the desperate way he thirsts for gold.

Without meaning to, Yuri notices the little things one learns about a person with close proximity, the things he wouldn’t have bothered paying attention to otherwise. He acknowledges the color of JJ’s eyes for the first time. It’s always seemed like such an unimportant detail before. Maybe it’s because JJ bothered to point out Yuri’s eyes that Yuri returns the favor now, or maybe it’s just that Yuri has no other choice _but_ to consider these things when he doesn’t have the chance to look anywhere else. They’re a light blue-gray that should look cool and stormy set in the resolute expression JJ’s wearing, but somehow still manage to appear warm and open. They droop a bit at the outer corners, just enough that JJ might look tired and lazy if not for that fact that he almost always seems to be full of energy. It gives Yuri the impression of a big, dopey puppy — all floppy ears and dumb smiles, and a constant need for attention and admiration.

In the competitive world they inhabit, when fifteen is old enough to compete among adults, nineteen doesn’t seem quite as young as it truly is. Indeed, from a distance, JJ has always appeared very grown up, whether or not he’s acted with an admirable level of maturity. Yuri is pretty sure JJ benefits from being tall and broad in that regard, and the fact that JJ knows how to dress himself in a way that makes him look well put together certainly helps the gap between him and a kid who favors hoodies and sweatpants seem more significant than it is. Up close, JJ’s youth is much harder to overlook. The bold eyebrows and firm jaw only stand out because they make him look sort of rugged around perky Phichit, guileless Yuuri, saucy Chris, and sophisticated Viktor. Otherwise, JJ is fresh-faced and easy-going beneath that arrogant mask he seems to cling to. On JJ, the tired lines that have begun to appear on Viktor’s face are completely absent; JJ seems so tireless, Yuri can’t even imagine them ever marring his skin, and he wonders what they’ll look like years from now, when JJ finally does leave the last vestiges of youth behind.

It strikes Yuri then, more clearly than it has on other occasions, that JJ is still just coming into his own. When JJ loomed over him on the podium at Skate Canada and Rostelecom, acting so cavalier about his every victory, it was easy to infer that JJ had it all together. At that point, there was a very clear path to the top. Yuri assumed he’d seen most, if not all, of what JJ had to offer. He knew that if he pushed himself harder, if he went a little further with his programs, if he risked a little more, he could surpass JJ and put his uneasiness behind him, because JJ would no longer be a threat.

Now that Yuri is paying more attention, now that he’s taken the time to _consider_ JJ as more than just another obstacle, he’s not so sure it’ll be that easy. JJ is determined. JJ is zealous. He’s daring. He throws himself into his programs with intensity. He doesn’t shy away from a challenge. Even Viktor’s indifference is met head on. JJ savors the competition, the chance to prove himself against someone who treats him as if he’s not even a factor. Yuri can see it in JJ’s eyes, in the arrogant smile that quirks his mouth every time the room erupts into surprised cheers. He can feel it in the way JJ’s body moves with so much self-assurance, can sense it in the way JJ completely ignores looking over at Viktor, the way JJ disregards their entire audience.

"We’re untouchable," his demeanor says. "We’ve already won."

Yuri knows, then, that he was mistaken about JJ before.

JJ is nowhere _near_ finished. He hasn’t yet reached his full potential.

He’s barely even begun.

That knowledge would alarm Yuri if he didn’t get the feeling that JJ has no intention of advancing anywhere without him. Yuri doesn’t know why that’s the case, doesn’t know what JJ hopes to gain by this rivalry he’s spawned with all his teasing, doesn’t know what JJ means by trying to develope some sort of camaraderie between them now, but it spurs Yuri on, makes him want to rise to the challenge. He remembers the photograph JJ shared with him last night, the admiration in JJ’s voice as they marveled over it, the reverent way JJ spoke of inspiration, and Yuri’s shocked to realize that it _means_ something to him that JJ looks at him as “the one to beat,” that it _matters_.

Viktor might disregard them both, but JJ never has.

It’s exhilarating. It puts an extra bursts of energy into Yuri’s steps. It makes him bold. It drains out the tension and the awkwardness, and it becomes nearly impossible to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up.

JJ’s considerate about the way he touches Yuri. His grip is neither too loose nor too firm, and his hands wander only as much as they have to. The skin of his hands feels a little dry. JJ’s long fingers are rough with callouses, and Yuri finds himself momentarily curious as to where they come from. JJ’s hand was warm when he helped Yuri from the podium. That hasn’t changed. JJ’s body seems to give off a considerable amount of heat overall. He’s not cold the way Yuri always seems to be. Yuri notices it the most when his back is against JJ’s chest. It would make Yuri apprehensive if he weren’t currently feeding off of JJ’s confidence, because it’s something he knows he could grow to like, and he thinks he might know _why_ Isabella leaned in more during those moments.

Yuri can smell JJ’s cologne. It’s the last thing Yuri picks up on, an abrupt realization he has during the final thirty seconds of a song Yuri thinks is about a minute too long, when they’re pressed together in a way that probably looks a little risque but doesn’t feel all that troubling when Yuri’s so focused on other things. Yuri wouldn’t know how to describe the smell if asked. Maybe there’s something sort of woody about it. Maybe there’s some kind of subtle spice involved. The only thing Yuri can really identify in the mix is the very faint undertones of jasmine, and he only knows what that smells like because Lilia favors jasmine in whatever perfumes she wears. It’s therefore not a fragrance Yuri would have thought to attribute to someone as overt with their masculinity as JJ often seems, but it’s blended so well with whatever other aromas were used that it doesn’t seem uncharacteristic at all. Yuri assumes the cologne is expensive because it doesn’t smell like absolute shit. It’s strong, but not overpowering, and Yuri thinks he understands how some people might find it enticing.

Yuri knows the song is coming to an end when the instrumental cuts out and the music’s nothing but vocals. Their movements slow, and their once lively steps lead them into a sway.

_I need to know_   
_I need to know_

They’re pressed much closer together than Yuri ever would have been comfortable with if he weren’t so determined to win. As it is, he’s far too single-minded to care. He doesn’t shy away. He puts everything he has into those last few moments, and when it seems like JJ might be trying to go easy on him, might be attempting to spare him the sultry end JJ shared with Isabella, Yuri grabs at him and meets him head on.

_I need to know_   
_I need to know_

 

To hell with being coy. To hell with seeming clumsy and inept. If Yuuri Katsuki can put together a decent Eros program with fucking _katsudon_ in mind, Yuri can sure as hell put on a dramatic finish during a stupid dance-off.

His hands are on either side of JJ’s head when they stop. Yuri knows JJ and Isabella would have kissed. Tenacious though he might be, Yuri’s still not prepared to go that far, so he stops a few millimeters away instead.

It’s no less effective.

Mila screams her excitement so loud Yuri won’t be surprised if security comes by to break their afterparty up soon. Chris’s appreciative whistling is just as piercing. Mari cheers something in Japanese, and Phichit shouts “wait wait wait, hold that pose!” while Yuuri claps uproariously. Otabek is much quieter with his own applause, but he’s visibly amused now when before he was still partly subdued.

JJ looks a little surprised. For a few seconds, he just stares at Yuri in disbelief. Then his mouth curves into a wide grin and he laughs wildly.

Yuri’s heart is pounding against his ribs. At first, he’s concerned that panic might take hold again. He’s the center of attention in a crowded room. There are shrieks and whoops all around, and he’s standing far too close to someone he doesn’t yet consider a friend. JJ’s arms are still around him. They’ve both shifted out of their final pose, so the embrace feels more like a hug than a part of the dance. Yuri can feel JJ’s laughter through his chest. JJ’s breath is warm on his face, and there’s an admiring look in his eyes again that might make Yuri feel sort of smug if it wasn’t so unsettling.

“JJ and Yuri win, no contest,” Emil says.

The awkwardness doesn’t have a chance to rush back in after that. Yuri can feel little inklings of it, a subtle discomfort that tickles the back of his spine, but it’s overshadowed by the thrill of his achievement.

JJ’s cheers and squeezes Yuri tight before releasing him.

Yuri jumps up and throws his fists in the air with a wordless shout.

He doesn’t know why this is different, why his spirits soar so high over something as stupid and juvenile as a dance-off against drunk adults, when he fell so low after winning gold at his first senior Grand Prix Final. The two can’t even be compared. This night seems so inconsequential when set against an event he’s been working toward for years. This victory won’t matter in the long run. It offers him nothing. It’s little more than a brief distraction — a silly diversion in the middle of an otherwise humorless life.

But this is _fun_. Yuri can’t even remember the last time he let himself truly enjoy something.

“Yurochka!” Mila screams. She drapes herself around his shoulders and nuzzles the side of his face from behind.

“Get off me,” Yuri says, but his attempts to shove her away are halfhearted at best.

“I changed my mind,” she tells him, clinging tighter. “I’ll dance with you.”

“You missed your chance.”

Yuri turns to rub his win in Viktor’s face with a triumphant grin. Viktor’s blank expression actually looks a little strained. This might have more to do with the fact that Yuuri is stumbling over to JJ than it does Yuri’s show of arrogance, but Yuri will take whatever satisfaction he can get.

“ _JJ_ ,” Yuuri says. He grabs onto JJ’s shirt and stares into his face in pure amazement. “JJ, that was so cool. You have to dance with me, JJ.”

“Sure, Katsuki,” JJ says, grinning amusedly. “You’re on.”

Yuuri sags against his chest admiringly — an affectionate drunk if there ever was one. “Shit, I’m sorry I was mean to you. You have to forgive me, okay? I swear I didn’t mean it. You just hurt Viktor’s feelings, you know?”

“Did I?”

JJ spares a look over at Viktor, who makes no point to hide the fact that he’s becoming territorial. Viktor frowns openly instead of disguising his defensiveness with a pout, and he ignores Chris chattering animatedly beside him to stare JJ down while Yuuri continues to babble and cling.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “Yeah, don’t hurt his feelings, okay? He’s really sensitive.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

“Do you know how cool it was?” Yuuri continues, switching topics with hardly the space for thought in-between. “How you just… You messed up your short program, right? And then everyone thought you might be messing up last night, too. But you came back and you totally killed it, and I was so… I was impressed, you know? And then earlier tonight I was a little jealous, because if I could do that… I messed up _so bad_ last year.”

“Hey, Pig,” Yuri says. He’s given up trying to get Mila off his back. At the moment, he’s much more interested in sinking the metaphorical knife deeper into Viktor’s chest, so he makes sure the entire room can hear him when he concludes, “The drunken flirting isn’t going to help you win again. The dance-off’s over.”

“Yuriiioooooooo,” Yuuri complains. He must not be so drunk this time that he lacks any shame, because his face turns a little red and he pulls himself off of JJ. It lasts as long as it takes for him to put a more appropriate amount of space between them, before he announces, “Let’s have a re-match after Worlds!”

Yuri snorts, but the smile hasn’t left his face yet. “You have to make it to Worlds first, idiot.”

Free to move now that he doesn’t have a drunken leech hanging all over him, JJ puts himself back into Yuri’s line of sight. He has a hand on his chest, right over his heart when he says, “That smile hits me right here, Little Bit.”

“Fuck off,” is Yuri’s automatic response. He shoves at JJ’s shoulder, but there isn’t any heat behind it and his subsequent attempt to frown is poorly executed. “This doesn’t count.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Damn,” JJ says. “You’re gonna shoot me down after all that bonding we just did?”

“We did not bond,” Yuri argues.

“Come on, not even when you were all up in my face at the end?”

“I told you I could fake it, didn’t I?”

“That was so hot,” Mila pipes up over Yuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri nods vigorously. “It was so cool,” he says. “You were so… so _pretty_ , Yurio.”

“Fuck you, I’m always pretty,” Yuri tells him.

“Teach me how to be pretty!”

“Why do I have to teach you everything? Have your coach do it.”

“Yurio!” Mari chimes in before Yuri can spare another spiteful smirk in Viktor’s direction. She’s practically vibrating with excitement as she motions to her phone and asks in heavily accented English, “A picture? To Yuuko?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

Phichit's face brightens at the prospect of sharing evidence of their late night celebrations. “Can I post any of this online?” he asks.

“Bad idea,” JJ says before anyone else can get a word in. “You’ve all been drinking. Sober up first or there’s a good chance one of you is gonna post something you’ll regret.”

Phichit might droop a bit in disappointment, but he concedes, “You have a point.”

“Yeah, I might have posted a nude or two on Instagram while I was drunk. It didn’t go over as well as drunk me thought it was going to.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and pulls a face. “Maybe don’t take nudes at all,” he says.

“Can I see them?” Mila asks, finally extricating herself from Yuri’s shoulders.

“How about everyone hands over their phones?” JJ suggests.

There’s some whining and pouting from Chris and a distressed sigh from Phichit, but for the most part the group relinquishes their phones without complaint. The only one who doesn’t offer his is Viktor, but Yuuri and his momentary JJ worship seem to have helped sober him up real quick. He’s looking somber and distant next to Chris on the couch. JJ spares a quick glance at him but seems to decide it would be best not to say anything to him, which Yuri happens to think is a shame.

A part of him actually wants to see JJ gloat. Yuri thinks they both deserve to, and he doesn’t understand why JJ would act so hostile and assertive before if he doesn’t have any intention of holding anything over Viktor’s head now that he has the chance to.

Unless JJ is actually a decent human being.

It annoys Yuri somewhat. As much as he accuses Viktor of being petty, Yuri knows he has it in himself to be the exact same way. He doesn’t always feel guilty about it. In fact, he can be quite proud of it at times. He’s aware that it makes him come across as a bit of an asshole, and while that’s not an assessment that usually bothers him — especially since it means people tend to leave him alone when he’s in a shitty mood — watching JJ take the moral high ground when he could be parading around as King soaking in the admiration makes Yuri feel suddenly self-conscious.

JJ isn’t supposed to be so principled. He’s supposed to be a prick. He’s supposed to make snide comments and delight in his own superiority. He’s not supposed to make Yuri feel childish for being so self-satisfied, because it’s not like JJ has a great track record with humility.

The smile slips off of Yuri’s face when their eyes meet over the crowd, and Yuri finds himself studying JJ rather closely again. He takes in the neatly combed hair and the dark teal suit with the navy shirt that should look stupid, but it doesn’t, because it fits JJ perfectly and brings out the color of his eyes. He notes the warm smile on JJ’s face, how JJ doesn’t shy away from Yuri’s caustic attitude, how JJ doesn’t look at him like the obnoxious brat Yuri _knows_ his behavior often makes him seem to be. He recalls much of the last several weeks and tries to reconcile the aggravating memories from Skate Canada and Rostelecom with the relatively pleasant exchanges over the last twenty-four hours, and he finds that the disparity intrigues him almost as much as it pisses him off.

There aren’t any sparks. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. If any of that gross, cliché bullshit ever happens later down the road, Yuri won’t really notice it. Everything occurs so gradually that he won’t always be sure which moments in their life should take prominence. Years from now, when he looks back on tonight, no matter what anyone else says about it, Yuri won’t have any delusions about what occurred between them. They shared a dance, and they found some level of understanding. That’s all.

But this moment still _means_ something, even if Yuri doesn’t realize it at the time.

Tonight is the night Yuri decides to give JJ a chance.

And that’s just as significant as any bullshit sparks, because without it there never would have been an opportunity for anything else.

* * *

Later that night, Yuri discovers what Yuuri meant about the point at which everything becomes fun and talking to people is no longer awkward.

He won’t recall the exact moment it happens, because after a while everything sort of blurs together, but he _really_ starts to notice that something’s changed after he accepts a drink from Chris, when the four cups of juice and a trace of vodka JJ mixed for him have dulled his senses enough that the strong taste of whatever Chris hands him doesn’t seem as revolting as it would have when he began drinking earlier that evening. When morning dawns and the alcohol leaves him with a terrible hangover, Yuri will be horrified by the cloudy memories, and the realization that he is not only a reasonably friendly drunk, but also _incredibly_ impressionable.

The proof? A few videos saved to JJ’s phone of Yuuri and Phichit teaching the entire room the choreography to Britney Spears’s “Baby One More Time,” which Yuri throws himself into mastering with an embarrassing level of enthusiasm.

“You’ve got that sexy hair flip down, babe,” JJ says while he records.

“Don’t call me that!” Yuri complains. When he watches the video sober, he’ll be mortified by the fact that he sounds like he’s whining.

“What? Babe?”

“Nooooo,” Yuri says. “ _Sexy_. I’m not sexy.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a matter of opinion.”

JJ sits on the floor with Otabek, out of the way but still perfectly positioned to document the madness that has descended upon the hotel suite. Neither one of them have had anything to drink all night. They haven’t done much more than chat quietly and watch the absurdity play out around them while guarding everyone’s phones, but they don’t seem bored. Otabek has actually laughed once or twice, particularly whenever Mila eagerly lifts Yuri over her head as part of the choreography, which makes the indignity of it seem worth something, since it’s the first time since Yuri met him several days ago that he’s actually heard Otabek laugh so openly.

“I need to see you do this when you’re sober,” JJ says.

“I’m so fucking drunk right now,” Yuri happily responds. It seems important to him that everyone should know that, because it’s wild and new and he feels like he’s having the time of his life.

He’s never cared for drinking. His few encounters with it before have led him to the very firm opinion that alcohol tastes like shit and makes people act like fucking idiots, two things Yuri has never cared to experience for himself. While this night might have taught him a thing or two about the merits of mixing a little bit of alcohol with a whole lot of juice, it won’t really change the latter part. Yuri won’t totally revise his opinion, but at least he’ll come to understand _why_ people choose to partake in a few drinks — everything about the night seems absolutely hilarious to him, and no one can say that he isn’t having fun.

The room has been partially out of focus for the last half hour at least. Yuri is still very much aware of his surroundings, but navigating the room without bumping into anyone has become impossible — mostly because there are too many people gathered in an area too small to properly serve the level of activity currently taking place, but also because Yuri’s coordination has become pretty shitty. In the morning, he’ll be surprised he was even able to keep dancing. At the moment, he happens to think he’s doing a pretty spectacular job of it, even after accidentally jabbing Mila in the boob with his elbow several times.

_Show me how you want it to be_

“You have to post this online,” Yuri says after coming out of a spin that leads into a shimmy.

Otabek laughs again. It’s a deep, quiet chuckle that makes Yuri smile. There’s something really quite pleasant about it, and Yuri is suddenly very proud of himself for causing Otabek to make that sound.

“The world doesn’t need to see Yuri Plisetsky drunk off his ass dancing to Britney Spears,” Otabek says.

“The world definitely deserves a sober rendition,” JJ tries again.

“I want the world to know I can do this better than Katsukidon,” Yuri says.

“I’ll send the video to Leo then. How’s that?”

“And Guang Hong!” Phichit shouts.

_My loneliness is killing me_

Leaning forward only to snap back up in relatively quick succession is not as easy a feat as it would normally be. The world insists on wobbling around. Yuri wobbles right along with it. He goes stumbling backward into Chris, who grabs him in an impromptu hug and plants a big kiss on the side of Yuri’s face for his trouble. It takes a few moments for Yuri to extricate himself. He rather enjoys the show of affection.

“Hey, Katsuki,” JJ calls. “Where the hell did you learn this anyway?”

“The internet!” Yuuri chirps. Most of them have removed their shoes, but Yuuri has gone the extra step of letting his trousers go missing. He’s dancing around the room in his underwear, with his dress shirt rolled up and tied above his midriff like some trashy schoolgirl. “There’s video!”

“Okay, but why this song in particular?”

“Because Britney is a goddess and this is my homage to her.”

“I want to be her,” Phichit sighs.

“I want to be _with_ her,” Yuuri says.

“What?” Viktor abruptly stops dancing to goggle at him before pouting. “Yuuri~!”

“I’m sorry, Viktor, don’t hate me!”

_Oh baby baby, the reason I breathe is you_   
_Boy, you’ve got me blinded_

“I’m doing the back handspring!” Yuri shouts.

There’s a chorus of “no, don’t!”s and “wait!”s from a few of his companions, and a shrill “he’s going to break his neck!” from Mickey, who prowls around the edge of the room passing judgement on each poor decision undertaken by the rambunctious group, but Yuri ignores them all. He bends back, back, back, and plants his hands onto the carpet when one of his feet leaves the floor. Then the other foot lifts from the ground to join it. He’s upside down for one wild second that sends the world tilting precariously, before he completes the flip and lands back on his feet to the sounds of Mila, Sara, Emil, and Mari cheering and applauding.

Yuri jumps twice, throws his hands into the air, and cheers right along with them.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Otabek chides him.

“I know how you can make sure that doesn’t happen,” Yuri says. He falters a bit upon settling down but manages to remain on his feet and continue the next series of moves — a few steps back, then forward again.

“How’s that?” Otabek asks.

“Dance with me.”

Otabek snorts. “When are you going to give up on that?”

“Maybe when I get my way.”

“C’mon, Beks,” JJ says. “Let the diva have what he wants.”

“I don’t think so,” Otabek says.

_I must confess, I still believe_

They all lean over and pop back up again, which, as one might expect, still does absolutely nothing to stop the room from spinning. Everything tilts worse each time Yuri does it, and he’s had to do it countless times since Yuuri began teaching them. If Yuri had any space left in his head for critical thinking, he might regret it. Instead, he turns, twirls, and practically flings himself into a backbend he’s moving too fast to properly recover from. This time, he goes crashing into Yuuri, who loops his arms around Yuri’s waist to keep him upright and laughs while nuzzling Yuri's hair.

“I like this happy Yurio,” he says.

“Dancing makes me happy,” Yuri responds. While intoxicated, pretending that he isn’t enjoying himself seems like a pretty stupid idea. “And music. I like music. You have fun music. When you come to Russia, we can dance all the time.”

“I don’t think the alcohol’s hurt your mood at all either,” JJ observes.

It takes Yuri a little longer to remove himself from Yuuri’s embrace, both because Yuuri clings to him longer than Chris did, and because standing is becoming increasingly more difficult. He’s lost track of the steps and hops around trying to find the rhythm again, but each bounce of his feet makes him more dizzy than before. Fortunately, Mila chooses to lift Sara over her head this time. Yuri’s not so sure the end results would have been as successful if she’d chosen him again.

_Oh pretty baby, I shouldn’t’ve let you go_

“I never would have expected you’d like this sort of thing,” JJ says.

Yuri stops moving and puts a little space between himself and the others in an effort to regain his bearings. He tries to focus on staring at JJ, but he has to strain his eyes to get his vision to cooperate. JJ’s face looks fuzzy around the edges and his eyes appear to be merging together.

“Why not?” Yuri asks.

“This is very pop princess,” JJ explains. “Your exhibition program gives the exact opposite impression.”

“I _like_ my exhibition program.”

“Right, so something like this seems out of character, don’t you think?”

“Why’s that?” Yuri asks. He screws up his face in confusion. Being confused hurts his head, because sorting things out requires more thought than he has the mental capacity to manage at the moment.

“You just seem like you want everyone to think you’re a badass.”

“Fuck you, I _am_ a badass. Badassery isn’t exclusive to people like you.”

_When I’m not with you, I lose my mind_

“People like who?” JJ asks. He’s had a big grin on his face for quite a while. It stretches a little wider now.

“Like you,” Yuri says, flapping his hand in JJ’s general direction. “You know, like… big and tall and strong. Or like you…” He shifts to point at Otabek next. “All dark and cool and brooding. I can be pretty and still be a badass.”

“That’s true,” JJ allows.

“You can’t just… you can’t look at my programs and think that’s all I am. I’m… shit, I can’t think. What’s it called? It’s like… when you have different sides.”

“Multifaceted?” Otabek supplies.

_And give me a sign_

“Yeah, that! I’m multifaced.”

The song comes to an end, accompanied by several cheering voices that grow even louder when it immediately starts back at the beginning. Most of their group shuffles into position to take up the challenge again, but Emil and Minako break off from the crowd to refill their drinks instead, and Chris prances over to the brunet whose name Yuri has heard several times over the course of the evening but which he has now inevitably forgotten.

Yuri makes no move to rejoin the others. Pouting at JJ and giving him a hard time for making generalizations seems like a more pressing matter.

“I can be passionate,” Yuri tells him. “I can be… impish… or fairy-like. I can be sweet if I want to be. I can be cheerful. Or I can be dark. Or angry. I can be mean. I can kick someone’s ass. If I want to be the Russian Fairy, I have to be able to take care of myself when some stupid fucker harasses me about being short and pretty.”

“Point taken,” JJ says. Yuri has a hard time distinguishing the expression on JJ’s face, but he thinks it still looks amused. “Okay, so tell me something else about you I wouldn’t expect.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Another song you like. Something completely different from Welcome to the Madness.”

Yuri doesn’t even take the time to think about the request, or how embarrassed he might be by the song he chooses. He immediately start singing, “Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me, but I won’t feel bluuuuuuuue… Like I always dooooooooo… ‘Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s yoooouuuuu…”

“Oh my God,” JJ says.

Yuri can’t really tell if the exclamation is good or bad, but JJ starts laughing, and since the alcohol makes everything funny anyway, Yuri choses to believe it’s a good thing.

He dances over to Otabek, a move that’s more hopping steps and a series of wanton jerks of his body in random directions than it is any sort of legitimate choreography. He bends down to grab Otabek by the hands, then straightens up as much as he’s able and leans back with all of the strength he can muster to try forcing him onto his feet.

“I was sick and tired of everythiiiiiiiiiing,” Yuri continues singing, “when I called you last night from Glaaaaasgooooooow... All I do is eat and sleep and siiiiiiiiiiing…”

“What are you doing?” Otabek asks.

“Wishing every show was the laaast shooooow…”

“Yuri…”

“So imagine I was glad to hear you’re coming… Suddenly I feel alright…”

Otabek finally stands, but only because Yuri is on the verge of tripping and falling in his efforts to get him to budge. Yuri’s face brightens and he jumps a few times in excitement. He holds onto Otabek’s hands and starts dancing back and forth.

“And it’s gonna be so different when I’m on the stage toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!”

“Yuriooooooo!” Yuuri calls out to him. “You’re singing the wrong song!”

_Tell me, baby, ‘cause I need to know now, oh, because_

Yuri ignores him and sings louder, “Tonight the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me, shinin’ like the suuuuuuuuun… Smilin’, havin’ fuuuuuuuuun… Feelin’ like a number ooooooooone…”

“Yurio!”

“TONIGHT THE SUPER TROUPER BEAMS ARE GONNA BLIND ME, BUT I WON’T FEEL BLUUUUUUUE… LIKE I ALWAYS DOOOOOOOOO… ‘CAUSE SOMEWHERE IN THE CROWD THERE’S YOOOOOOOUU…”

Yuuri trips over someone’s misplaced shoe and crashes into Yuri’s back. The impact sends Yuri stumbling into Otabek, who has to grab him around the waist to keep him from taking a hard fall. Yuri flounders as he tries to regain his balance, but the abruptness of it has completely shattered what was left of his equilibrium. He scrambles to throw his arms around Otabek’s neck, hanging on for dear life while the room teeters around him.

“Fuck,” Yuri mumbles.

“Shit, sorry! I’m sorry!” Yuuri cries.

“I’m gonna fall. I can’t stand. Beka, help!”

“I’m right here,” Otabek says with an admirable level of patience.

“I can’t see straight,” Yuri tells him.

“You need to go to bed.”

“Nooooooooooo.”

JJ is still laughing on the floor. Yuri takes that to mean that everything remains absolutely hilarious, so he starts laughing along with him.

“Bed,” Otabek says firmly.

Overcome by giggles, Yuri sags in Otabek’s arms and looks up into his face, but he can’t make out Otabek’s expression. His voice sounds low and unamused, though, which Yuri thinks is a shame. He wants to hear Otabek laugh more.

“Okay,” Yuri agrees, because he thinks it might help. “Okay, but you have to carry me, Beka.”

“You can walk.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t. You have to help.”

Otabek maneuvers him around and bends down. Then there’s one arm around Yuri’s back and another behind his knees, and the world tilts dramatically. Yuri finds himself scooped up with relative ease. This leads Yuri’s drunk brain to assume that Otabek is even stronger than he looks, and Yuri spends a few moments marveling at his new friend all over again. The reality of the situation is probably much less impressive — either Yuri’s lighter than he likes to think he is, or Otabek has had practice carrying someone around before.

Nearby, JJ settles down. He groans before lifting himself off of the floor.

“I should get going, too,” he says. “Izzy’s gonna kill me if I stay out any later.”

Yuri tilts his head back to frown at him upside down. “You’re still sharing a room with her?”

JJ smiles cheerfully. “And a bed.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Yuri says with a notable amount of disgust in his voice. He tips his head back lower to make sure JJ sees how appalled he is by the situation. “I don’t understand you. Why don’t you make any sense?”

“I think I make plenty of sense.”

JJ collects their coats and jackets, and Yuri’s discarded tie and shoes. He leaves the stash of confiscated phones with Mickey, who grumbles about it but agrees to assume the responsibility when JJ points out that he’ll be able to prevent anyone from taking any compromising pictures of his sister. There’s some griping from Yuuri, Mari, and Mila about Yuri being whisked away when they’re still having fun. Yuri’s limp sprawl in Otabek’s arms must convinces them, though, because they soon shoo him out the door once Mila’s had her fill of pressing kisses to Yuri’s forehead.

Yuri watches the hallway lurch from side to side as Otabek carries him to the elevator. It must be late enough that the rest of the hotel has settled down for the night, because it doesn’t take long for the elevator doors to open after JJ presses the button.

“So where’s the ABBA song come from?” JJ asks as the elevator carries them down a few floors.

Now that Yuri has nothing fun to distract himself with, he becomes much more aware of the discomfort of being drunk. He feels heavy and sluggish. Even though the drop of the elevator is gradual, it’s enough to make his stomach give a distressing turn.

Yuri closes his eyes when the world refuses to stand still. “It’s what Grandpa listens to when he misses my grandmother,” he says.

“Why’s that?”

“I guess she liked them. Years and years ago. I don’t know, she died when I was two.”

The jolt of the elevator coming to a stop feels more significant than it should. Yuri scurries to loop his arms back around Otabek’s neck. He feels like he’s falling, even though Otabek still has a secure hold on him.

By the time they make it down the hall to Yuri’s room a few moments later, fatigue has set in pretty heavily. JJ fishes Yuri’s keycard out of his suit jacket and opens the door.

“I think I’m gonna pee my pants,” Yuri announces.

“Please don’t pee your pants,” Otabek says.

“I have to.”

Otabek carries him into the bathroom. When he slowly eases Yuri back onto his feet, Yuri has trouble supporting his own weight and continues to cling to him.

“I can’t stand,” Yuri complains. "I have to sit."

“So sit.”

Shitty as he’s beginning to feel, Yuri still finds the situation sort of amusing. After Otabek helps him get his pants down, Yuri laughs to himself while he sits there relieving his overfull bladder.

“Did you know I pee sitting down a lot so I can waste time on my phone?” he asks.

“I didn’t know that, no,” Otabek says.

His voice sounds low and even. Yuri can’t really see his face anymore, but he doesn’t think Otabek’s annoyed at all. He gets the feeling that Otabek’s laughing at him on the inside but doesn’t want to let it show because he’s worried it’ll encourage Yuri to start acting out again.

“Hey, Little Bit,” JJ says, poking his head into the bathroom. “What time do you have to wake up to head out?”

“I don’t know. Eleven, maybe.”

“Lucky. That’s later than me.” JJ steps into the bathroom and holds out Yuri’s phone. “Unlock your phone. I’ll make sure your alarm’s set.”

It takes Yuri three attempts to put in the correct passcode. “You have to send me all the pictures and videos you took,” he says when he hands it back.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.”

Otabek helps Yuri stand once he’s done using the toilet. Somehow, Yuri’s able to pull his underwear back up, but his trousers get tangled under his feet and around his legs. Together, he and Otabek manage to get them off. Yuri stumbles repeatedly and nearly goes face first into the floor, but Otabek catches him and lifts him back up. In the morning, Yuri won’t know what to be more embarrassed by — the fact that Otabek had to watch him pee, or the fact that Otabek had to princess carry him everywhere.

He’s placed on the bed so gently Yuri barely notices the change in altitude. He immediately sinks into the mattress with a groan. Otabek leaves just long enough to get a glass of water to put on the side table. JJ plugs Yuri’s phone in and sets it out of reach.

A large hand brushes Yuri’s hair out of his face. Yuri sees a dark, blurry shape and doesn’t know which one of them it is until he hears JJ’s voice say, “I better see you at Worlds for that re-match.”

“We’re gonna kick so much ass,” Yuri tells him. “I was good, wasn’t I? When we danced tonight?”

JJ answers with a lilt in his voice. It takes Yuri a moment or two to realize he’s singing another song. “Oh, my darlin’, you were wonderful tonight~…”

“You’re full of shit, JJ.”

“But I’m not so bad, right?”

Sober, Yuri would have continued to insist that JJ was, in fact, absolutely terrible. Drunk, he doesn’t have the energy or the mental capacity to pretend as if he hasn’t come to a different conclusion.

“No,” he says. “You’re alright.”

He thinks JJ might be grinning widely again, but he can’t be sure when his vision remains impaired and the room is only dimly lit from the light in the bathroom.

“See you around, Little Bit.”

“G’night, Shithead.”

JJ and Otabek mumble a few things to one another, but Yuri can’t focus enough to hear them. The door opens and clicks shut soon after, and JJ is gone.

“Beka,” Yuri says, searching for Otabek through the hazy shadows.

“Hmm?”

“Will you stay?”

Otabek doesn’t answer one way or the other, but a few moments after the bathroom light shuts off, Yuri feels his weight settle against the edge of the mattress. Yuri tries to shift over to make room for him and gets tangled up in the sheet.

“I never had my own room until I moved to St. Petersburg,” Yuri says.

“Really?”

“Mmm. We only had two bedrooms, so I shared with Mama. Then Grandma died and I shared with Grandpa sometimes, too, when Mama wasn’t home. Then Mama...”

He doesn’t finish. Even drunk, Yuri doesn’t want to think about Mama.

“Do you miss it?” Otabek asks him.

Yuri manages to roll onto his back and blinks tiredly at the ceiling. He listens to Otabek’s shoes drop to the floor.

“Mmm. Yeah. It’s lonely by myself. I don’t like being lonely.”

There’s a glow in the darkness as Otabek sets an alarm on his own phone. Then Yuri feels the mattress dip a bit, and Otabek stretches out on his back beside him. There’s enough space that they don’t have to touch, but Yuri can still feel Otabek’s body heat.

It reminds him of cold nights in Moscow, huddling next to Grandpa or Mama, and Yuri feels suddenly very homesick.

“Beka?” he says.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you already.”

Otabek doesn’t laugh at him. He turns his head to look at Yuri through the darkness. Yuri follows suit and tries to make out his expression in the moonlight filtering through the blinds, but everything’s still too blurry and indistinct.

Yuri’s eyes slip shut of their own accord soon after. It seems to take no time at all for him to drift off to sleep.

If Otabek ever responds that night, Yuri doesn’t hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set up [a tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/merrily-merrily) to post about this fic and maybe talk about Pliroy! Feel free to follow me if you’d like!
> 
> I’m partially ignoring the information that was recently revealed about Yuri’s mom. Mostly the part about her still being alive. Her trying to get her foot into show business but having Yuri at a young age works well enough for my purposes.
> 
> Also, I hope Super Trouper gets stuck in your heads as much as it’s been stuck in mine. I was searching around the internet looking for songs and reading up on ABBA’s popularity in the Soviet Union back in the day and it was sort of instantaneous how it popped into my head when I haven’t even heard the song in over fifteen years.
> 
> All the other songs mentioned in this chapter are as follows:  
> ["Sway" by Michael Bublé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZM-5SYr2Yk)  
> ["I Need to Know" by Marc Anthony](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35swFE2hyzA)  
> ["... Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-u5WLJ9Yk4) (If you want to see most of the dance uninterrupted, check out [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6F3wpwOa7o) and skip to around 0:54 or so.)  
> ["Super Trouper" by ABBA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHPrbfng_Nw)  
> ["Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxAiUq8yn34)


	4. Say It Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri bids Barcelona adieu, Lilia stands her ground, a minor scandal unfolds online, and JJ makes things really weird.

“In the day, in the night,  
Say it right, say it all.  
You either got it, or you don't;  
You either stand, or you fall.  
  
When your will is broken,  
When it slips from your hand,  
When there's no time for jokin’,  
There's a hole in the plan.  
  
Oh, you don't mean nothin’ at all to me.  
No, you don't mean nothin’ at all to me.  
But you got what it takes to set me free.  
Oh, you could mean everythin’ to me.”

\- [“Say it Right” by Nelly Furtado](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JnGBs88sL0)

* * *

 

Yuri feels like death the next morning.

Nausea hits him before he even fully drags himself out of bed, and the next couple of hours become an endless game of trying and failing not to throw up. He pukes in his hotel room while struggling to pack up all the shit he has scattered along the floor. He pukes in the lobby while Yakov shouts at him for being thoughtless enough to get drunk in the first place. He _doesn’t_ puke during the ride to the airport, but it’s a very close call and not an experience he’d like to repeat, because it involves swallowing down a warm, sour mess that would have been better off flushed down a toilet somewhere. He pukes again after making it through security, when his stubborn resolve to hold it in finally gives out.

“Kill me,” he groans after, slumping over a table in an airport café. “Just put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Can’t,” Otabek says after a brief pause. “The internet says euthanasia’s illegal in Spain.”

Yuri doesn't know what it says about Otabek or their budding friendship that Otabek actually took the time to look that up.

Yuri whimpers pitifully with his face buried in his arms. His head hurts like a bitch. Every light is too bright and every noise is too loud. He feels sore all over. He understands why people overuse the “hit by a bus” comparison; Yuri honestly can’t think of a more appropriate way to describe how he feels. The nausea is relentless, even if he’s pretty sure there’s absolutely nothing left in his stomach at this point, and his mouth is so fucking dry he’s beginning to get a feel for the “in a desert without water” metaphor, too.

“I’m never trusting anything Chris gives me ever again.”

He can hear Otabek chuckling quietly. “I don’t know why you trusted him to begin with.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Yuri complains.

“You live and learn.”

“My first impression of you was accurate. You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Yuri remains hunched over the table, but he turns his head a bit to be able to peer up at Otabek, whose mouth is quirked in another one of his restrained half smiles. At least he’s been sympathetic, so the residual amusement isn’t really a bother. It would have taken Yuri much longer to get his shit together that morning if Otabek wasn’t there to help. Otabek has supplied him with water, held his hair back twice, tied it out of his face before his third visit to the toilet, and he hasn’t made any mention of the fact that Yuri rolled toward him in his sleep only to wake up clutching Otabek’s arm with his face pressed into Otabek’s shoulder.

Which, honestly, was not a terrible experience, but Otabek is so fucking cool, and after last night Yuri’s worried about coming across as a clingy child in comparison.

“You should watch the video,” Otabek tells him.

Yuri covers his face with his hands. He can feel his cheeks burning with shame. “Fuck, I’m going to kill JJ.”

He drags his phone out of his hoodie pocket and opens his text messages, where three videos and several more pictures are waiting for him, along with a single text that says nothing more than “Oh baby baby.” Twenty seconds into the first video, Yuri is certain he’s never been so humiliated in his entire life. He knows he should be grateful that JJ’s mindful enough not to let any of this show up online, but the mortification makes it difficult to feel appreciative.

He curses JJ for encouraging him to drink, he curses Chris for giving him something so potent, and he curses Yuuri fucking Katsuki most of all, first for challenging him to another stupid dance-off, and then for admitting to a secret Britney obsession and dragging everyone in the room into it when Yuri wasn’t in the right frame of mind to keep pretending that he has zero interest in such things. Yuri would have been more than happy to take that guilty pleasure to his grave. Now a room full of the most annoying people in the entire world are aware that he actually doesn’t mind mainstream pop music all that much, and that he has at least one ABBA song memorized from start to finish.

“I’m never going to live this down,” Yuri says weakly.

“At least you kept your clothes on.”

Yuri wants to ignore the evidence, wants to delete the messages and forget that at least half of last night ever happened, but he can’t look away. He’d compare it to a train wreck, except that the thing that makes it so terrible is how fucking _happy_ he looks. Yuri can’t remember the last time he smiled so much. He doesn’t even know if he ever has before. He watches himself, and it feels like he’s seeing an entirely different person. Someone lively and bright. Someone uninhibited. Someone _free_. He’s never heard himself laugh so openly. He wasn’t even aware that he could.

The absolute worst thing about it is that he can remember every moment of it. The images and the voices might be clouded over in his brain, but they’re there. He remembers what it felt like to let go, to let the walls come down, to let himself _be_ , and it hurts so fucking bad that he can’t carry it over into sobriety. All his life he’s struggled not to give a shit about what anyone thinks. His overall demeanor might make him seem successful, but Yuri knows better than anyone that it’s all for show. He wouldn’t try so hard if he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be so fucking angry all the time. The only time he’s ever managed to stop caring plays out before him on his phone, and the unbridled happiness he sees there is akin to a punch to the gut.

Yuri tells himself he looks stupid in the hopes that being negative about it will make him feel better — all swinging arms and dramatic hair tosses that should, by all rights, look absolutely ridiculous. It doesn’t really work. He might cringe when the video zooms in on his face to show him mouthing the words while he dances, but it has more to do with the ache in his chest at the sight of his own smile than it does the song or the choreography.

“I’m swearing off alcohol for the rest of my life,” he says.

Otabek snorts softly. “Because of the hangover or because of the dancing?”

“Both.”

He can’t stomach watching the short Super Trouper video and closes out of it before he even gets ten seconds into it. He regrets that song the most. It reminds him of Grandpa, and of their small apartment in Moscow, and of a number of painful memories he’s spent the last six years trying to avoid.

“You weren’t the only one following along,” Otabek says in a manner that sounds comforting. “Everyone’s on that video.”

Yuri drops his phone onto the table and buries his face against his arms again. “But the person dancing with all those people isn’t me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m not that free spirited.”

“Do you want to be?”

Yuri groans. “Don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?” Otabek says.

“I don’t want to answer.”

“Because you’re embarrassed?”

“Because I don’t know how to be that person,” Yuri says.

Otabek grows quiet and doesn’t respond for a while. Yuri keeps his face hidden so he doesn’t have to see Otabek’s expression.

Between the crying in the bathroom after the Final and his drunken behavior last night, Yuri’s afraid that he’s crossed some sort of line. Even if Otabek hasn’t complained, even if he doesn’t seem uncomfortable, even if he’s never made Yuri feel the need to hide anything, Yuri can’t help but think this is way more than Otabek initially signed up for. When the first thing Otabek noticed about him was the strength in his eyes, finding out how embarrassingly needy he really is beneath all that must come as a huge disappointment. Otabek _had_ to have been expecting something different.

It’s humiliating. Yuri doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but he’s pretty sure most people spend more than a week feigning emotional stability before the truth starts coming out later. The few hours they’ve had to hang out on their own over the handful of days they’ve been in Barcelona can’t possibly be enough time for a normal person to get to the point where “I miss you already” is an appropriate thing to say to someone.

The fact that it’s the truth makes it even worse. There’s a part of Yuri that doesn’t want to leave, because it means going back to feeling alone. Texting from different timezones seems like such an unsatisfying alternative.

“I thought you were multifaceted,” Otabek says.

There’s something uncommonly light about his tone of voice. Yuri tips his head up and sees an odd twinkle in Otabek’s dark eyes. It takes him a few moments to realize that Otabek is teasing him.

“You asshole,” Yuri says, but he can’t make himself sound angry. He feels heat pool into his cheeks again. He decides to retaliate by gently kicking Otabek’s foot under the table.

Otabek’s laughter is quiet and smooth. The light of humor remains in his eyes, but he sounds sincere when he says, “Don’t be ashamed of one of those facets. It’s what makes you who you are.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“How’s that?”

Yuri makes a grating sound in the back of his throat. “You make being cool look easy,” he grumbles lowly.

“What seems cool to one person might seem pretty lame to someone else,” Otabek says. “It’s all subjective. There’s no one right way to be. You taught me that.”

“I did?” Yuri asks. He doesn’t bother to disguise the disbelief in his voice.

Otabek shrugs. “Or it was a conclusion I came to when I realized comparing myself to you and basing my worth on how I measured up wasn’t going to get me anywhere.”

That strikes a chord. Yuri feels himself tense up in response. He hopes the reaction isn’t noticeable.

He thinks of comparisons, and of growing up in Viktor’s shadow. It isn’t just the world that compares Yuri to his rinkmate. Yuri does it to himself, too — with a far more critical eye. It’s a habit he got into as a young child, when the other kids at the rink in Moscow struggled to keep up with him. He was only three years old when Viktor made his Senior debut, but Viktor was making waves in the Junior Division before that. People have been talking about Viktor Nikiforov for as long as Yuri has been alive. One of Yuri’s earliest memories is of curling up with Grandpa on the couch at the age of five, watching Viktor win gold at the Turin Olympics. Yuri already loved skating then, but it wasn’t until that moment that he decided the ice was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

Yuri doesn’t know at what point childhood awe gave way to something else, when exactly it was that he decided being like Viktor wasn’t enough. It must have been a rapid development, because he can’t remember anymore if there was ever a moment in which he idolized Viktor the way people expect him to. He remembers thinking of Viktor’s promise with fondness and excitement; Yuri thought it was his best chance to make a lasting impression during his Senior debut. He’s drawn inspiration from Viktor’s style of skating over the years, and he has no trouble acknowledging Viktor’s talent, but Viktor has always seemed more like a hindrance than a mentor or friend.

Nowadays, resentment has settled in too deep for Yuri to put it aside and attempt to start over. It’s become such a permanent fixture in his life, Yuri’s unsure when it actually began. He only knows it’s become worse since April.

He doesn’t want to be Viktor Nikiforov, but not being Viktor Nikiforov requires Yuri to compare himself to his rinkmate just as much as he would if he was trying to emulate everything Viktor has done. Yuri doesn’t really do anything by accident. He regulates everything about himself, from the way he skates to the way he looks, and at least half of that effort is meant to differentiate himself from Viktor. He’s cultivated his image as the Russian Punk and as the Russian Fairy because those titles are his exclusively. Viktor has always been Viktor — a living legend, but still undeniably human. Yuri wants to be something else. Something _more_. Something no one has ever been before, and something no one will ever be again.

But beneath that bitter determination is the doubt.

It doesn’t matter how many times he takes himself apart and puts himself back together again if what’s at the core of who he is isn’t enough.

The world has lauded Yuri as Viktor’s successor. That used to feel promising, when “successor” meant that he was supposed to take over and exceed. Now, with the world gearing up to accept Viktor back into competition with wide, open arms, “successor” is beginning to feel like “second best,” the one the world would choose only if Viktor no longer existed.

Yuri meets Otabek’s eye.

If Yuri was truly uninhibited, he would have a lot of things to say in that moment. He wants to express his fears and his growing uncertainty, because he thinks Otabek might understand them. He wants to share his resentment and his frustrations, because he thinks Otabek might know how to reassure him. He wants to ask what Otabek sees in him beyond his soldier’s eyes, because Otabek is cool and calm in a way that seems effortless, and Yuri knows that none of the things they have in common will ever make him resemble that. They’re different people, and even if Yuri likes that, he can’t pretend as if he understands why Otabek would bother giving him the time of day.

In the end, Yuri doesn’t say anything, because there’s a part of him that’s afraid unloading his problems onto Otabek and pointing out their differences will make Otabek reconsider his offer of friendship. Though it’s only been a very short time in the grand scheme of things, Yuri already knows he doesn’t want to let this go.

Otabek smiles at him — a real smile this time, not a smirk or a partial curve of the mouth. It’s soft and small, and Yuri thinks he feels his heart breaking, because it precedes Otabek checking the time on his phone and rising from his chair.

“I need to head to my gate,” he says.

Yuri doesn’t respond. He’s afraid opening his mouth will lead to him begging Otabek to stay.

“You’ll be okay?” Otabek asks, once he’s pocketed his phone and thrown his empty coffee cup into a nearby trashcan.

Yuri nods and hopes the grief of the moment isn’t written all over his face.

“Okay,” Otabek says. He shoulders his carry-on bag. “Good luck at Nationals.”

He’s slow to leave the table. Yuri thinks Otabek must expect that there’s something he’s holding back; he moves like he’s giving Yuri the time to decide whether or not he wants to spit it out. Yuri watches him step toward the crowd that meanders through the terminal. He stares at Otabek’s retreating back and the straight, sturdy line of Otabek’s broad shoulders, and he lets himself miss that moment in the bathroom after the Final.

“Otabek!” he calls.

He’s halfway out of his chair when Otabek turns, and Yuri freezes in place, because he was two seconds away from closing the space between them to fling himself onto his friend, and he isn’t sure if that’s okay or if he’s just overreacting.

Otabek smiles small again, and his eyes gleam like he knows. “What happened to calling me Beka?”

Yuri can feel heat in his face. Part of him wants to reject his drunken antics, wants to act tough and pretend as if this moment doesn’t mean shit, but it’s dwarfed by the part of him that craves companionship and responds to the invitation with elation.

Still, he’s at a loss for words, so he returns Otabek’s smile and mumbles a quiet, “Thanks.”

It’s not enough. It doesn’t even come close to expressing his gratitude for everything Otabek has already done for him, or everything he thinks Otabek might do for him in the future, but it’s a start, and he’s hopeful that this will continue, that he’ll have the chance to figure out the right way to reciprocate, because he wants to for the first time in his life, and there’s something sort of uplifting about that.

Otabek shrugs, cool as anything, like it isn’t a big deal even if they both know that it is.

“See you at Worlds,” Otabek says.

There’s no false modesty. It’s a definitive acknowledgement — and a promise, too.

Three months. That’s all. Yuri’s made it nearly sixteen years already. He can make it through another three months.

“Yeah,” he says.

Yuri watches Otabek turn away again, watches Otabek grow smaller and smaller over the distance, before he’s swallowed up by the crowd and disappears, and it becomes harder and harder for Yuri to pretend that he’s still there.

Lowering himself back into his seat, Yuri struggles to hold onto that warm feeling in his chest. He fights for as long as he can, keeps chanting “three months, three months, three months” in his head like the prospect of Worlds is enough to stave off the impending feeling of loneliness, but it doesn’t last, and he lets his expression crumble a bit when he puts his head back onto his arms.

He doesn’t think the sight of an empty chair across from him has ever looked quite as sad as this one does.

* * *

Yuri has never been afraid of flying, but the more time he spends in the air, the more he loathes it. This occasion is no exception. Being hungover makes flying an even more dreadful experience than it already is. The stiff seat feels twice as uncomfortable, the turbulence seems magnified, and the noise is close to unbearable. His stomach twists and turns so often, he sets the barf bag into his lap so he doesn’t have to scramble for it in the event that he needs it.

He puts his earbuds in and tries to ignore the sorrow that comes with leaving Barcelona behind, and the apprehension that grows stronger as the hours bring them closer to Russia. Loud, crashing music is out of the question when his head feels like it’s splitting in half, so he’s stuck listening to the softer shit that doesn’t work nearly as well at distracting him. He curls up as well as he can in his seat by the window, shuts his eyes, and tries to sleep. It’s difficult, not just because of the hangover, but because regret grows stronger the further they fly, and he wishes he’d given into the compulsion to grab Otabek in one last hug.

The fact that Mila keeps jabbing him with her elbow doesn’t help either. The first two times, Yuri can pass it off as an accident. The third time is hard and purposeful, and he whips his head up to glare and snap at her, but he stops when she hastily brings a finger to her mouth in a shushing motion. Silently, she jerks her head toward the seats behind them.

Yuri pulls his earbuds out and listens.

He can hear Yakov and Lilia muttering to one another.

“—can’t believe you took him back,” Lilia is saying.

“Lilia…” Yakov grumbles, and it sounds like a warning, but Lilia is too strong willed to let that stop her.

“Don’t waste your breath taking that tone with me, Yakov. It’s never worked. You know I’m right. Your Viktor was an arrogant, selfish boy who’s grown into an arrogant, selfish man, and he’s done nothing but try to get under Yuri’s skin since Moscow.”

The care and concern with which Lilia speaks of him makes Yuri feel warmly satisfied deep in his chest, but it’s the cold, scathing way she talks about Viktor that has him waiting with bated breath to hear the conversation continue.

Yakov mumbles something Yuri can’t hear. Lilia responds with a short, caustic laugh.

“You don’t think Viktor knew exactly what he was doing?” she says. “He had every opportunity to speak with you in private, but he chose to do it mid-competition only minutes before Yuri took the ice.”

“I don’t want to discuss this again,” Yakov snaps.

“You’re not taking my concerns seriously.”

“Of course I’m taking them seriously.”

“I don’t think you are. You’ve been blind to Viktor’s nature since he was a boy.”

“Viktor’s _nature_ ,” Yakov scoffs, like he thinks Lilia’s exaggerating the issue. “I think I know Viktor’s nature better than you.”

“He has it out for Yuri,” Lilia argues.

“You’re making baseless assumptions.”

“Am I?”

“Viktor would never deliberately jeopardize Yuri’s success.”

“And you’re sure of that?”

“I know Viktor,” Yakov says. “He’s fickle and dramatic and self-centered, but he’s not as devious as you like to think he is.”

“Then why that moment? Why confront you when Yuri was most vulnerable to the pressure?”

“Yuri was fine.”

“Was he?” Lilia asks, and then quickly after, “ _Is_ he?”

Yuri curls away from the window to set his ear closer to the miniscule gap between his and Mila’s seats, struggling to hear Yakov’s low response. A brief flutter of panic stirs in Yuri’s chest when he thinks about his free skate. Neither Yakov nor Lilia have said anything to him yet about what happened after, but Yuri can tell by Lilia’s furious concern that they’ve discussed it together, and that she’s come to her own conclusions about what caused it.

She could be right. Yuri honestly doesn’t know. He had so much going on in his head before, during, and after the long program, anything probably could have set him off. Viktor seems like the most obvious culprit to lay the blame on given the timing. Yuri was dealing with the stress of competition just fine until Viktor inserted himself into the moment. Then the pressure grew, and the confidence Yuri felt after his record breaking short program was replaced by desperation. _Watch me,_ he thought, _Watch this_ , but he felt on edge and out of control. His performance wasn’t without flaws even if he skated beautifully, and he knew then how easily everything could fall apart, how it very nearly did.

He’s tried not to think about it since then, because he’s afraid of inflating that nervous tension. He doesn’t have time to waste on desperation or disappointment or the fear of failure, not with Nationals around the corner, not with the European Championships and Worlds coming up in the next few months. If he wants to take gold at Nationals, if he wants to make the teams to Europeans and Worlds, he has to focus, has to push himself just as hard as he has since he tested his limits at Rostelecom, because he knows there aren’t any guarantees in this sport.

His career could end at any moment, and then what would be left for him?

“He’s just a boy, Yakov,” Lilia says, and Yuri thinks he should be pissed off that she’s referring to him as a child, but he isn’t, because he can hear in her voice how much she cares.

“I’m doing the best I can for him,” Yakov replies.

“And your best involves accepting Viktor back into the fold, does it?”

“Lilia…”

“Don’t. You’ve made up your mind. I know that, and I know nothing I say will change your decision, but you listen to me closely, Yakov. You have four trainees. I suspect Viktor will persuade you to take on one more, and I think we both know who that is.”

“You’re assuming—”

“Let me finish,” Lilia cuts him off with ease. “I assume because I’m aware of _your_ nature. You see a talented, broken child, and you take them in and show them how to be successful, because seeing them flourish fulfils the part of _you_ that’s been broken since—”

“We are not going to discuss this here!” Yakov snaps, and it’s loud enough that Mila actually jumps next to Yuri.

There’s silence then. Yuri thinks Lilia must have grown cautious about being overheard. Mila tries to cover her mistake by shifting around in her chair like she’s trying to find a more comfortable position.

Finally, when Mila’s settled and a few more quiet moments pass, Yuri hears Lilia murmur, “ _You_ have four trainees. Perhaps five. _I_ have one.”

Yakov mumbles something Yuri can’t hear again, and Yuri thinks Yakov must be trying hard not to raise his voice.

“Yuri is my only concern,” Lilia continues. “Do you understand that, Yakov?”

“I brought you in specifically to benefit Yuri,” Yakov says, “because I recognized that I can’t give him the sort of support and instruction he needs on my own. I never expected you to divide your attention. I’ve no intention of asking you to.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Then what’s the point of this lecture?”

“The point is that I will no longer tolerate any of Viktor’s meddling, and I will not sit idly by the next time he does anything to threaten Yuri.”

“ _Threaten_?!” Yakov squawks. “Viktor has never _threatened_ him.”

Yuri frowns at that. He can still feel Viktor’s hand on his face sometimes, but no one knows about that and he doesn’t really care to tell anyone. The memory pisses him off more than it makes him afraid, because Viktor doesn’t strike him as the type to be capable of anything more than that. There’s a part of Yuri that wishes he was, just so he could have a reason for the anger and the frustration he feels toward Viktor to feel more like hatred than jealousy.

“Getting physical is not the only means of intimidating someone,” Lilia says.

Yakov scoffs something incoherent.

“You leave Yuri to me then,” Lilia tells him.

They fall silent again. Yuri can hear Yakov shift in his chair, and he thinks Yakov must be turning away from Lilia. Lilia sniffs imperiously but doesn’t say anything else.

Yuri doesn’t know how to feel. He’s used to sharing Yakov’s attention, so he’s not bothered by what Lilia seems to think is Yakov’s oversight. It isn’t painful or disappointing to hear Yakov scoff and grumble and act defensive, because Yakov’s spent years trying to keep the peace between his trainees. Yuri knows they’re all emotionally demanding in their own way. He respects Yakov’s position, and he doesn’t expect Yakov to start picking sides just because his ex-wife has an apparent distaste for Viktor. It isn’t surprising that Yakov would attempt to defend Viktor, considering Viktor’s been with him the longest.

It’s Lilia’s perspective that troubles Yuri. He’s not really sure that Viktor has ever actively threatened him aside from the hand on his face, and Yuri doesn’t feel particularly intimidated by that anyway. There _was_ that moment before his free skate when Viktor hugged him. Normally, a hug might not seem like such a terrible thing, but Yuri doesn’t know what Viktor truly meant by it. The embrace was unexpected and awkward. It didn’t feel comforting or supportive. If anything, it felt a little stiff, a little desperate. Yuri was too startled and confused to try hugging him back. Then the pressure of the moment settled on Yuri’s shoulders almost immediately.

Yuri tries to think back, tries to determine if there was anything else that might provide evidence, but his thoughts are disorganized and he isn’t sure he can trust himself to form an unbiased opinion. All he knows is that Viktor broke his promise and left him behind. Viktor saddled Yuri with a program he hates, a program Viktor refused to explain, and he taught Yuri choreography Yuri suspects he probably meant to use for himself instead of crafting something specifically for him. There have been moments when Viktor’s encouraged him, but it’s always felt empty, like Viktor’s been mocking him beneath it, and it’s never been enough to make Yuri forget the unwelcome criticism.

_“You’re both far more ordinary and mediocre than you think.”_

There’s a part of him that wants to think what Lilia says is true, but he isn’t sure if it’s because he honestly believes it or if he’s just looking for an excuse to paint Viktor in a bad light. All he knows for sure is that he feels a small thrill in his gut when he thinks about Lilia standing by him, opposing Yakov for his sake, and facing Viktor with hostility. It takes a few moments, but he soon recognizes that feeling — it’s the same sort of eagerness he experienced when he realized JJ might be as bitter about Viktor as Yuri is himself.

When he was younger, Yuri never thought he needed anyone on his side. He’s been fine on his own, with Grandpa just a phone call away. He’s grateful for the chance to take care of himself, because he thinks being on his own has made him strong. It motivates him to work harder, to be better, to keep pushing, because he’s been convinced that success will bring him the sort of recognition he craves.

But it’s not enough. He knows that now. He can’t keep going on like this. He knew that the moment he broke down, the moment he felt Otabek’s arms wrap around him, when Yuri leaned in and let someone _care_. Yuri doesn’t want to be on his own anymore. He’s tired and lonely, and he _wants_ someone to give a shit, he wants to be important, he wants to be seen as more than the Punk and the Fairy, because even if he’s cultivated those personas, they’re still just pieces of him, just two small parts of a whole he doesn’t quite know how to express in its entirety.

Maybe Lilia can be the one to help him with that. Lilia and Otabek and—

Yuri cuts that thought off before it can grow further, because he doesn’t think he’s desperate enough to want to include JJ yet. With alcohol fogging his head, it wasn’t so terrible getting along with him, but Yuri still doesn’t know enough about him to want to make an effort to be anything more than acquaintances.

Instead, Yuri shifts in his chair and tries to get comfortable again. He glances up and sees Mila looking at him in confusion, like she has no idea what’s going on anymore.

And she wouldn’t. He’s never confided in her like that. Yuri wonders now if he should have.

She mouths silently at him, “What the fuck?”

Yuri shrugs like it’s not important. He likes the warm feeling that wends its way through his chest when he thinks of Otabek’s and Lilia’s support, and he doesn’t want to ruin that by trying to explain things to Mila when he can’t say for certain whose side she’d take. She makes a disapproving noise at him and jabs him one last time with her elbow, but Yuri ignores it, just shoves his earbuds back in and curls up in the opposite direction to stare at the clouds out the window.

* * *

It’s after 8:00 PM in St. Petersburg when their flight lands. Yuri’s headache hasn’t gone away. If anything, the last four hours have only made it worse. He’s tired and sore, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his cat and not move for the next ten hours at least.

Which is probably why the world decides it’s the perfect moment to fuck him over.

They’re waiting by the luggage carousel when Mila says, “What the _fuck_.”

Yuri knows it’s not about what they overheard on the plane, because Mila wouldn’t ask unless they were alone, and Lilia is standing right beside him. Mila’s gaping at her phone, in any case, and her exclamation sounds more like a statement of surprise than an actual question.

She shoves her phone at Yuri before he can ask. She pushes it too close to his face in her haste. Yuri has to grab onto it and pull it away to get a proper look.

It’s some sort of news article or blog post on a site he can’t remember visiting before.

 _“A Queen For A False King,”_ is the title.

Accompanying it is a very compromising photo of Yuri and JJ dancing in Chris’s room the night before.

Something like terror swoops low in Yuri’s gut. “What the _fuck_?!” he shrieks.

Mila’s voice is quieter but still frantic, more a harsh whisper than anything. “How did they get that picture?!”

Yuri has no answer for her. He doesn’t know who would have been stupid or malicious enough to leak anything pertaining to the after-party online. His first thought is Phichit, that selfie obsessed social media whore, but his impression of Phichit wouldn’t have led Yuri to believe that he’d upload a picture like this without asking for permission first. He can’t think of anyone else there that night who would have been compelled to share, except maybe Chris, but Chris doesn’t strike Yuri as the type to jeopardize someone else’s reputation either.

And this _does_ jeopardize Yuri’s reputation. The picture is horrifying, not just because the moment was supposed to have been private, but because of how easy it is for anyone looking at it to get the wrong idea.

They’re pressed together nearly chest to chest, their faces so close someone might imagine they were moving in to kiss. Yuri doesn’t remember the exact moment. Most of the dance remains sort of out of focus in his memory. He was too fixated on mimicking the video JJ sent him to consider how any of it might be perceived by anyone who wasn’t there at the time. His only concern was winning, and that meant pushing himself as far out of his comfort zone as he could manage. He hadn’t thought it was necessary to put on a more restrained performance.

At the time, JJ’s hands didn’t _feel_ like they were treading dangerously, but the one on Yuri’s back in the photo looks a little too low now that Yuri has to examine everything from the angle of a gossip blog. JJ’s expression looks smug, his mouth curved into a cocky grin, and his eyes look touched by something that _could_ be desire — desire Yuri _knows_ is fake, just an act put on for their audience, the same way his own posturing was an act. On Yuri’s face is the beginning of a smile, his mouth quirked up _just so_ , enough that people might think he was enjoying himself.

That part is accurate, at least. He can admit to himself that he had fun last night.

If only it didn’t come across in such a suggestive way.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he says.

It’s all in English, which doesn’t come as much of a relief, but at least he isn’t seeing it on a Russian site. Yuri scrolls through the post to scan the accompanying article, and it only gets worse from there. The author doesn’t just question the picture. They weave an utterly ridiculous story about Yuri and JJ secretly dating, only they present it as true and verifiable.

Every word of it aggravates the nausea Yuri’s been fighting all day. If the tone of the article was humorous and speculative, it might not have been so bad. Humor is easy to deny, and speculation can be brushed off. But the author isn’t _inferring_ anything. These are blatant allegations. They’re written as facts.

_“Sources say…”_

_“Witnesses claim…”_

And it doesn’t even matter that there aren’t any legitimate sources. If even one person believes any of this bullshit, there’s no stopping it from spreading.

He and JJ are appraised in the most unflattering light possible. The author scoffs over their arrogance, ridicules JJ for his failure in the short program, then derides him for his fictitious infidelity. They disparage Yuri for involving himself with someone who recently became engaged, rip JJ to shreds over Yuri’s age, and relentlessly mock Yuri’s appearance. They don’t even say anything about his achievements; they reduce him to a pretty face and nothing else — as if the way he looks has any bearing on any of this.

 _“King JJ and his new Queen,”_ it says.

It’s clearly meant to be derogatory.

Compared to some of the insults his peers have thrown at Yuri over the years, being called a Queen is pretty tame. It’s completely lacking in creativity, if anything. Under different circumstances, it wouldn’t be much of an insult at all. The only thing that makes it so biting is the contemptuous tone with which it’s written, and the fact that this drivel is being spread across the internet for all to see. If it was just a dumb, harmless joke a random fan chose to make to celebrate his glory, Yuri might have been the tiniest bit amused by it.

But this isn’t harmless, and Yuri knows for sure then — when the epithet sparks the snide remarks about his pretty face, as if it were a flaw, as if it’s something he should be ashamed of — that this was written and spread around by someone who has every intention of smearing both his and JJ’s names in the mud by whatever means possible. This isn’t an author who cares about the truth, or about being fair or tolerant. These are more than stupid jokes — they’re personal attacks, and Yuri doesn’t know what he did to deserve it.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Mila says again.

She’s reading it over Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri is only mildly comforted by the fact that she sounds just as outraged as he is, because two seconds later Yakov is rounding on them both.

“What have you _done_?” Yakov seethes.

He has the gossip post up on his phone, too, and any sense of relief Yuri might have felt to see the post in English completely evaporates.

The version Yakov’s looking at is in Russian.

“I didn’t _do_ anything!” Yuri immediately shouts back. “It’s all bullshit! None of this is true!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Yakov snaps at him. “You think the truth matters when there’s a compromising picture included?! What possessed you to dance with him in the first place?!”

“Yakov…” Lilia says.

“Fuck, seriously?!” Yuri cries. “It was nothing! We were just messing around!”

“Do you think _anything_ through before you act?! How many times do I have to tell you to keep your reputation in mind before you actually decide to concern yourself with it?! You think behaving like this is going to do you any favors?!”

“ _Yakov_...” Lilia tries again.

“And you!” Yakov turns his anger on Mila. “What were you doing while this was going on, huh?! Taking pictures?!”

Mila scowls at him, but she doesn’t raise her voice when she says, “I didn’t upload that picture and you know it.”

“You could have put a stop to this nonsense before it even began!”

“ _Yakov_!” Lilia hisses at him severely. “ _That’s enough_. You’re causing a scene.”

Yakov glares at her. He looks fit to explode, red faced and snarling. Yuri thinks Yakov might brush Lilia off and continue ranting, but the steely look on her face must have an effect on him, because he growls something that sounds like “Don’t think I’m through with either one of you!” before he stalks closer to the luggage carousel to begin searching for their bags.

Mila snatches her phone back to scroll through the article again. Empty handed, Yuri turns to Lilia. He wants to scream, wants to insist upon his innocence, but she cups her hand against the side of his face and stops him.

“We will deal with it,” she says calmly.

She doesn’t seem angry or disappointed. She doesn’t even seem particularly worried. Yuri doesn’t know why, doesn’t know _how,_ when he’s certain he’s never been so horrified by anything in his entire life. When he manages to swallow down his complaints and nod, Lilia pats his cheek in a manner that feels affectionate. That she doesn’t immediately grill him about this the way she did when that article about him and Otabek came out comes as something of a surprise. Yuri wonders what’s changed between then and now. The only thing he can think of is his breakdown after the Final.

Maybe Lilia’s wary now. Maybe she’s a little more concerned for his emotional state. She meets his gaze steadily, like she can calm him down with nothing more than a look. It works enough to silence him, but does nothing to ease the dread.

Yuri’s sure she’s not going to let him off the hook for what she must view as a serious lapse in judgement, but she seems content to let it be for the time being.

Any attempt Yuri makes to adopt her indifferent attitude ends in failure. He stands off to the side, stiff and pale-faced, while his heart pounds and his thoughts race.

People stare as the four of them retrieve their luggage. People stare as they leave the terminal. Yuri pulls his hood over his hair and tries to avoid their gaze, tries to tell himself people only look their way because of Yakov’s outburst. He’s never sure how many people recognize him when he’s out in a crowd, but with public embarrassment looming far too close for comfort, every gaze, even the most fleeting, feels negative. A quick, curious glance comes across as a glare. Even the most indifferent gaze looks scathing.

Yuri’s suddenly afraid that everyone who looks at him knows who he is, knows what people online are saying about him. He sees people talking, and even if he can’t hear what their conversations are about, he assumes they’re talking about him — spreading rumors and misinformation; laughing at him; criticizing him for something he hasn’t even done.

He walks unsteadily to the car. Lilia keeps a hand along his back the entire way. Yuri can’t decide if it’s meant to comfort him or usher him along. She doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t let him pull his phone out of his pocket until they’re driving away. Only then does he take the time to switch it off airplane mode.

It takes a few seconds for any notifications he received to come through.

He has two texts.

One is teasing and supportive from Georgi: _‘Good to see you had fun in Barcelona!_ _❤_ _Keep your chin up. This will all blow over.’_

The second is from Yuuko: _‘YURIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’M SO SO SO SO SO SORRY!!!!!!!!!!! THE GIRLS TOOK THE PICTURE FROM MY PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’_

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuri swears quietly.

It must be the picture Mari sent before JJ took everyone’s phones away. Yuri can’t even blame her for it because he gave her permission to do it.

He should have known better. He knows nothing good will ever come out of letting any evidence from last night anywhere _near_ Yuuko’s triplets. He doesn’t know how those girls became so sneaky and underhanded at just six years of age when their parents are nothing but welcoming and sincere, but he’s frightened to think about what they might be like when they grow to be his age.

Yuri spends the entire car ride fighting the urge to scream as he delves into the scandal online.

He manages to piece together a rough course of events. For some diabolical reason Yuri cannot even _begin_ to fathom, the triplets posted the picture onto their social media account, and someone with obviously shitty intentions took it and crafted it into trashy gossip. The initial reactions to the story range from disbelief to outright scorn toward the author and their unsubstantiated claims. It doesn’t seem as if it even gained much traction until the last couple of hours, when an intrepid group of Yuri’s Angels took it upon themselves to translate it from English into several other languages for the sole purpose of pitching a bitch fit together.

Several other pictures are included in the original story. Yuri didn’t take the time to look at them before, but he studies them carefully now, just to make sure none of them are as compromising as the first one.

There’s a picture of JJ helping Yuri off of the podium after the Final. It should be entirely harmless, because it was taken before Yuri was even looking at JJ. Their hands are clasped together in the photo, but Yuri was putting so much effort into remaining stoic after the bathroom incident that the image lacks the comfort Yuri knows JJ was probably trying to convey. That only makes it seem sort of casual, like JJ being a gentleman around him is something that happens all the time.

There’s a picture of them in the lobby of the hotel their first evening in Barcelona, when JJ was teasing him and Isabella was trying to rile Yuri up. None of them were being quiet about it, so any of the countless fans who were there at the time would know what was really happening, but the atmosphere of the moment is lost in a still photograph. Isabella looks defensive, and Yuri’s anger looks like it could have been jealous and accusatory.

There’s a picture of them during the short program in Moscow. It was taken from a distance, probably by a fan on the opposite side of the ice. The close-up is grainy, but it’s clear that JJ is standing aside and gesturing Yuri off the ice. Yuri’s face isn’t visible, so no one can see that he was fuming. JJ doesn’t look snide, just friendly and well-mannered. To Yuri, the jeering “ladies first” seems obvious, but he can see how it might look from the view of a spectator.

The last picture is a shot of them on the podium at Skate Canada. This one should be the least suggestive, because Yuri looks irritated and JJ didn’t come close to touching him then, choosing to sling an arm around Emil instead. But the look on JJ’s face seems damning in the light of tawdry dating rumors. What seemed sarcastic and teasing in the moment looks flirtatious when caught on camera. If Yuri were a bystander, he might have thought it looked like JJ was flirting with him, too.

A fresh wave of nausea is rolling through him by the time Mila’s dropped off at her apartment. She says something supportive and reassuring to him before they part, but none of it registers. He’s gone too far down into the filthy abyss of comments and online chatter to acknowledge her show of loyalty.

There seem to be two very distinct groups of people: those who think the story is bullshit and are horrified that anyone would try to make the rumors seem legitimate, and those who think there might be some grain of truth to it and are horrified that JJ and Yuri would allow themselves to become embroiled in such a terrible situation.

Their fans are in a frenzy over it. It doesn’t matter what social media platform Yuri looks on, Yuri’s Angels and JJ Girls are hurling insults and accusations everywhere. Naturally, the Yuri’s Angels blame JJ, and the JJ Girls blame Yuri. The fact that there’s a very, _very_ miniscule segment who gush that they’d actually make a cute couple only makes things worse, and Yuri wishes he took the barf bag from the plane, because he’s suddenly very concerned that he’s going to puke in the car.

He hates the entire shitty situation, but most of all he hates that he can’t ever do a damned thing with anyone without someone on the internet jumping to completely bogus conclusions about his relationships with other people. First that shit with Otabek, now _this_...

Yuri can’t decide what he would rather do more — go off on the person responsible in a furious tweetstorm, or curl up somewhere and die.

Yakov makes the decision for him once they arrive home.

“You say nothing,” he says, with a stern finger in Yuri’s face. “Not a word on social media, do you understand me?”

Yuri wants to shout at Yakov to mind his own fucking business, but Lilia is giving both of them a grim look, so Yuri rolls his eyes and makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, then stomps toward the stairs to go up to his room. He drags one suitcase up with him before coming down for the second, letting each of them bang against the stairs as he goes. Lilia shouts his name up the stairs to stop him, but Yuri’s too pissed off to listen.

Once he’s in his room, Yuri shoves all of his luggage to the floor. For lack of any other outlet, he kicks his largest suitcase a few times. When that doesn’t ease any of the fury or mortification bubbling in his gut, Yuri drops onto his bed and screams into one of his pillows. He presses his face so hard into it he can’t draw breath, and he wonders how long it would take to suffocate himself like this.

He doesn’t want to deal with this. He doesn’t think he can — doesn’t know _how_. He’s never really been the subject of gossip before. What grief the press gives him tends to come in the form of criticism over his moody demeanor and the occasional hostile tone he’s taken during interviews. There was a bit of fuss made when he followed Viktor to Japan, and a lot of attention has given to his “rivalry” with Yuuri over the course of the Grand Prix series, but that was relatively innocent stuff, and it ended up being overshadowed by Viktor’s very public coming out.

While in Japan, Viktor could afford to ignore the ensuing outcry in Russia. He’s built such a massive worldwide following, cultivated such a sterling reputation over his long career, and has achieved so much success that the bad press he’s earned from his repeated spectacles with Yuuri hasn’t done as much damage as it would have if he was anyone but Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuri can’t say the same for himself.

He has a passable reputation at best. The only positives he has going for him are his career successes, his notable talent, and his youth — which theoretically signifies a lengthy career with many more successes to come. That might be enough to keep him going, if any of those were guaranteed to last. He has nothing else to benefit his image, and accusations like this can draw the wrong sort of attention. They can damage his already questionable marketability. If this shit continues, and he fucks up and starts _losing_ , that’s it. He’s not sure he would get very many chances to turn things around.

The World Championships are only three months away, and they’re just over two years out from the next Olympics. If he wants to make those teams, he has to do more than win. With Viktor planning a return to the ice, Yuri has to prove himself to be the superior contender and the better representative. He can’t afford the scandal of a gay love affair when he hasn’t even fully established himself at the Senior level.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuri says. His voice is muffled against his pillow.

He feels movement at the end of his bed, a light depression in the mattress. He knows immediately that it’s his cat. Katenka pads up beside him and nuzzles the side of his face, purring loudly in his ear. Yuri finally turns his head to the side and takes a few deep breaths. He buries his nose into her soft fur and kisses her head. Then he rolls onto his side and grabs at her to cuddle against his chest. She releases a soft, distressed sounding meow at the treatment, but settles when he scratches her cheek.

Rage and humiliation drown out the joy Yuri would normally feel at being reunited with her. Once they’re curled up together, Yuri drags his phone out of his hoodie pocket again and decides to vent the only way he has available to him.

He texts Otabek, _‘I’m begging you to come to Russia and kill me. We can make it look like an accident.’_

He texts JJ, _‘FUCK YOU SHITHEAD THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS KING AND QUEEN BULLSHIT??????????’_

He texts Yuuko, ' _It’s okay,’_ because even if he’s pissed off at her kids, he doesn’t want her to feel too bad about it. But he likes sympathy, so he adds, _'Being utterly humiliated builds character or some shit.’_

Then, when none of them respond within the next five minutes, he texts Mila:

 _‘Help me_  
_I’m so fucking pissed_  
_Should I post something?_  
_Yakov says not to_  
_Tell me I should post something anyway’_

Her response is almost instantaneous, so he knows she’s still wading through this shit on her phone. ' _You better make sure it’s good’_

That’s easier said than done when he can’t focus enough to think of anything appropriate, so he asks, _‘What should I say?’_

_‘If I knew I would have posted it already’_

_‘This shit is out of control_  
_The press is gonna eat me alive_  
_It’s gonna be worse than Viktor’_

 _‘At least JJ’s hot?’_ Mila says. _‘You could do so much worse’_

Yuri makes a retching sound. _‘I just threw up a little in my mouth,’_ he texts back.

_‘Just trying to look on the bright side’_

_‘There is no bright side_  
_He’s not hot_  
_He’s an arrogant douchebag’_

_‘Like you??????????’_

Yuri’s fingers squeeze around his phone in annoyance. He types a furious reply without thinking it all the way through.

 _‘No_  
_Fuck you_  
_We are nothing alike_  
_I hate him_  
_I would rather everyone think I was dating katsudon’_

 _‘WHOA_  
_Whoa okay hold up_  
_What the fuck???????????’_

Yuri groans and hides his face in Katenka’s fur.

That was a mistake. That was a terrible mistake. He wants to go back in time and punch himself before sending that text. Mila is never going to drop it. He’s sure she will taunt him about this for the rest of his life.

_‘I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT YOU HAG’_

_‘So you’re into older men?’_ Mila says. Yuri can almost hear her cackling at him from across town.

 _‘NO_  
_I AM NOT INTO MEN_  
_I AM NOT INTO ANYONE_  
_I MEANT OBJECTIVELY_  
_IF THEY ABSOLUTELY HAD TO MAKE THIS BULLSHIT UP ABOUT ME AND SOMEONE ELSE_  
_KATSUDON IS THE LEAST HORRIFYING_  
_BECAUSE NO ONE WOULD BELIEVE IT’_

 _‘Not Otabek?_  
_Nevermind you’re right_  
_Everyone would believe that’_

 _‘Fuck you_  
_We are not having this conversation again’_

Yuri can feel his face growing hot. He isn’t sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. He tells himself it's anger, because it's not like he really has anything to be embarrassed about.

 _‘I’d fuck him,’_ Mila says.

 _‘DON’T START,’_ Yuri replies. He sends her a long line of green faced emojis.

_‘I’d fuck JJ too’_

_‘EW_  
_EW EW EW EW_  
_STOP_  
_DON’T EVEN JOKE’_

_‘Definitely not joking’_

_‘EW,’_ Yuri says. He regrets asking Mila for advice. This is the exact reason he never shares anything with her. ‘ _I blame you for all of this’_

_‘What?????????’_

_‘You wouldn’t pair up with me for the dance off’_

Mila sends him a crown emoji. _‘I’m gonna make a post saying the queen title they gave you is incomplete without some drama attached,’_ she says.

_‘Fuck you’_

_‘I don’t know what it is about the men’s division_  
_But you’re all a bunch of drama queens’_

_‘I hate you’_

‘❤ ❤ ❤ ‘

Yuri growls unintelligibly and drops his phone onto the mattress. He grabs his pillow and holds it over his face, pressing hard until he cuts off his own air supply again. Katenka meows at him. He feels her get up and move away to find a spot where she won’t be jostled as much.

There’s a knock against his bedroom door a minute later, just when Yuri’s beginning to consider removing the pillow. He holds it there longer instead, unsure if he’s ready to deal with anyone else just yet. He doesn’t let go until another hand tugs the pillow away. Then he breathes deep and watches Lilia stare down at him with a frown and a raised brow. She sets a steaming mug of tea on his bedside table.

“Listen to Yakov,” she says, like she knows Yuri’s spent the last several minutes struggling not to give into the instinct to post something rude. “Defensiveness will make the situation worse.”

“People are going to think it’s true if I don’t deny it,” Yuri complains.

“And if you’re too quick to deny it, they will think you have something to hide.”

Yuri groans and reaches for another pillow. Lilia grabs this one, too. Her frown deepens disapprovingly.

“Drink,” she says. “Bathe. You smell like a drunk. And _eat_ something. You haven’t all day.”

Yuri sticks out his tongue in disgust. He couldn’t keep anything down that morning. He hasn’t thrown up since the Barcelona airport, but he hadn’t felt like risking food on the plane.

He knows he should be hungrier than he is. Lilia’s kept him on a strict diet, and as much of a regular schedule as traveling between timezones will allow. He hasn’t gone this long without eating anything since he lived on his own and got distracted playing video games.

The part of him that loves food wants to shove as much into his face as he can to make up for the meals he missed, while the petulant part of him fraying under stress doesn’t give a damn. If his competitive career is going to end because of a single picture and baseless rumors, there doesn’t seem to be much of a point.

Lilia stands at his bedside with an expectant look on her face until Yuri scoffs and rolls out of bed. He glares at her and drags his feet on his way to a basket of clean laundry, which he digs through without much interest for what he finds. He takes his time, waiting for Lilia to leave, but she doesn’t move. She watches him critically while he gathers his clothes. She keeps her sharp eyes on him when he returns to the bedside for his phone and the mug of tea.

“What?” he snaps at her.

He knows what she’s doing — standing there making sure he complies, because they both know he’d probably just drop back down onto the bed if she didn’t herd him to the bathroom herself.

She raises her brow at him but doesn’t answer. Yuri lets out a heavy sigh and stomps to the en suite. He flips the lightswitch with his elbow, kicks the door shut behind him, and fumes in silence over the fact that Lilia can order him around with nothing more than a _look_.

He considers standing there and waiting her out, but he knows he won’t win. He’s too angry and restless to soak in the tub, so after he sets his things onto the counter, Yuri turns on the shower, cranks up some music on his phone, and starts stripping out of his clothes

He won’t admit it, but stepping under the hot spray feels more relieving than he thought it would. The loud music and the stinging burn against his skin give him something to focus on other than the nervous twist in his stomach. For a while, it even drowns out the shrieking voice in the back of his head, the one that never really says any words, just screams and screams and screams until he can’t stand being in his own mind anymore.

Yuri shuts his eyes and focuses on blocking out the rest of the world.

* * *

He spends almost a full hour avoiding the growing predicament online.

Yuri ducks out of the shower every once in awhile like he’s ready to call it quits, but as soon as his eyes land on his phone and his thoughts start drifting back to the mess still waiting for him, he escapes back to the heat and the emptiness of the shower stall. He tries again and again, pausing only long enough to gulp down mouthfuls of the chamomile tea Lilia prepared for him before it grows cold. Then he turns the water temperature up higher before stepping back under the spray.

He doesn’t stop until he no longer has any choice, when he runs out of tea and the water keeps cooling despite his best efforts to maintain a constant heat.

He’s tracked water all over the tile floor. The mirror’s covered by a thick fog, and steam hangs heavy in the air. It feels uncomfortably humid. Moisture clings to him even as he dries off. Yuri’s skin has become blotchy, pale where the water didn’t hit him much, but angry and red everywhere else. He feels overheated and a little dizzy. He rushes to finish up, pulling his clean clothes on before he’s completely dry. In his haste, he neglects the moisturizer Lilia urges him to smear onto his face every night; it’s still tucked away in his duffel bag anyway. He leaves the empty mug on the counter, and his discarded clothes on the floor. Lilia will chide him about it when she sees, but Yuri feels too out of it to care.

He grabs his phone and turns his music off. On his way out of the bathroom, Yuri stops by his duffel bag long enough to dig around for his hairbrush. The bristles catch on the knots in his hair. Yuri ignores the pain and repeatedly yanks the brush through as he leaves his room to head downstairs into the sitting area.

Lilia sits alone on one of the couches. Yakov is nowhere to be seen. This suits Yuri fine, since he’s sure Yakov will only rant at him again anyway. Lilia has the television on, watching some late night news program with a disinterested look on her face. Yuri stands in the doorway tearing the brush through his hair until Lilia tuts at him and motions him over.

He sits next to her and passes the brush over his shoulder. For such an unyielding woman, she’s surprisingly gentle as she works the knots out of his hair.

When she’s done, she nudges him onto the floor by the coffee table, where another mug of tea and a small plate of food are waiting for him.

“Eat,” she says.

He does, because he’s too tired now to argue.

It could have been the heat of the shower that did it, burning through his anger and stemming his growing anxieties. Lilia will insist it’s the chamomile tea, which she’s plied him with since the day he moved in with her, as if tea can somehow soothe his shitty temperament. Whatever the case, the nausea has finally begun to ease, and Yuri’s nerves have settled enough that he no longer feels the need to rant and rave. He’s by no means content, and the fear still lingers, but his head feels a little clearer. He has his angry impulses back under control.

Yuri drinks more tea, he eats a banana and whole grain toast with almond butter, and he watches the news with Lilia. Neither of them say another word.

With the impartial look on her face, Lilia’s intentions would not be obvious to anyone who did not know her well, but Yuri’s sure she must be watching to determine the best way to handle what, if anything, is being said about him and JJ.

It doesn’t take Yuri very long to wonder if there’s a chance his initial paranoia might have been an overreaction. So far, the news is completely silent on the subject. He watches for twenty minutes, and there’s no mention of his name at all. Viktor is still the main topic of interest in figure skating, it would seem, as the world waits to hear if he really will be competing at Russian Nationals.

Yuri rolls his eyes. He can’t determine whether he’s more relieved no one’s picked up the online gossip, or annoyed that Viktor still has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

He’s just finished his snack when his phone vibrates with a text message.

It’s JJ.

 _‘Any chance you’re still awake?’_ the message says.

Yuri types back a quick, _‘Yes’_

His phone starts vibrating again before he even has the chance to set it down — this time with a call. Yuri hesitates when he sees “Shithead” on the ID. He almost ignores it. He expects talking to JJ will only make him angry again, and Yuri doesn’t exactly relish the long distance charge, but annoyance and curiosity get the better of him.

“What the fuck are you calling me for?” he answers. He pretends he doesn’t hear the stern “ _Yuri_...” Lilia gives him for his language.

“I was hoping you’d tell me what the fuck is going on,” JJ says. He sounds tired but frantic, and Yuri is satisfied to hear it, because it means he’s not the only one freaking out.

“Can’t you read? It’s all over the internet,” is Yuri’s flat, unamused reply.

On the television, he watches the beginning of another news segment about Viktor’s five consecutive World Championship wins.

Fuck, even when Viktor’s not around, Yuri _still_ has to see his irritating face everywhere.

“I’ve been on a plane all day. We just landed,” JJ says. There’s a surge of annoyance in his voice. Yuri can’t tell if JJ’s annoyed with him or with the situation. “I have at least twenty missed calls, half a dozen voicemails, and a shit ton of unanswered texts, and they’re all about you, so do me a favor, give me a fucking break, and tell me what the fuck happened.”

As usual, spite makes Yuri want to refuse. He wants to tell JJ to go fuck himself, but hearing JJ’s anger, even if a part of it might be directed at him, makes Yuri feel as if his own fury has been validated. He doesn’t feel that overwhelming need to _do_ something when he has JJ’s fuming to focus on.

He’s also never heard JJ sound pissed off before. That’s intriguing in it’s own right.

“There’s a picture of us from last night. Someone wrote a story about it,” Yuri says. “Now everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“ _What_?!”

“Trust me, I’m just as disgusted as you are.”

“What the _fuck_?!”

Yuri hears a lot of noise in the background. There are several different indistinguishable voices, probably other passengers mingling around. There’s an overhead announcement that sounds a bit muffled, and a piercing chime he thinks must be from a luggage carousel starting up. Then there’s another voice, still a little distant, but close enough to JJ that Yuri can recognize it as Isabella.

“Who’s sukeota3sisters?” she asks.

“What?” JJ says, a bit distractedly.

“I don’t know, I’m reading another post and it says that’s who posted the original picture.”

“That’s the devil’s triplets,” Yuri says.

JJ sounds confused and skeptical when he asks, “Who?”

“The reason Viktor went to Japan. They’re the ones who recorded Katsudon skating Viktor’s program and put it online.”

“So they’re friends of Katsuki’s?”

“The kids of his friend. They’re only six.”

“ _Six_?!”

“Or seven. It’s been awhile since I saw them. I have no idea when their birthday is.”

“You’re telling me three six year olds got their hands on a picture of us, posted it online, and now people think we’re dating?”

Yuri rolls his eyes and says, in a voice thick with sarcasm, “Yeah, someone wrote a glowing article about it. Very flattering. Everyone’s so excited. We’re figure skating’s new King and Queen.”

“This is so much fucking _bullshit_ ,” JJ says.

Isabella pipes up in the background again. “Of course it’s Liam Morrison.”

“ _Fuck_!”

The curse is passionate, spat out so loudly Yuri hears Isabella hurriedly shushing JJ right after. Yuri wants to keep going with the sarcasm, wants to prod JJ’s anger along, because JJ usually seems so fearless and jovial. Hearing him sound hateful and enraged instead is surprisingly amusing.

But Yuri has no idea what they’re talking about, so he asks, “Who the fuck is Liam Morrison?”

Lilia tuts behind him again. Yuri climbs up onto his feet and makes a hasty retreat back up the stairs so he can continue this conversation without her constantly assessing his language.

“He’s the douchebag who wrote the article,” JJ says.

“Okay? Is that name supposed to mean something?”

“Maybe not to you, but he’s had it out for me since my first year in the Senior Division.”

“What? Why?”

“Fuck if I know,” JJ says. He’s shushed by Isabella again, so he lowers his voice a bit before continuing. “Maybe he’s a dick? Maybe he’s got nothing better to do? He likes to mock my charity work. Tries to make me seem like a fake, as if that’s really the fakest thing about me. Then he writes these trash articles every time I’m pictured with someone new. There’s just never been this widespread of a reaction to it before. Most people assume it’s all bullshit.”

Yuri doesn’t ask if some of it _isn’t_ bullshit, even if the thought does cross his mind. Instead, he asks, “Is he an American?”

“I think so? Why does that matter?”

“I hate Americans. It gives me another reason to hate him that has nothing to do with you.”

JJ is silent for a few moments. Then he releases a gust of air into the phone. He sounds as if he’s trying to conceal a laugh.

“You don’t sound as pissed off as I would’ve expected you to be,” JJ observes.

Once Yuri’s back in his room, he flops across his bed with his legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. “I was. I am, but it hasn’t made the news here yet, so either no one believes it, or no one really wants to talk about it and they hope it will go away if they ignore it. Or they’ve already abandoned me and don’t want to waste their breath on garbage.”

“How much trouble is this going to cause for you?”

“No more trouble than Viktor’s had. Maybe. It’s hard to tell. People generally like him better.”

“Yeah, well, he knows how to charm people, I’ll give him that.”

Yuri doesn’t know what to say. He stares at the ceiling and wracks his brain for something appropriately caustic, but nothing comes to mind. He feels suddenly insecure, like something is happening that he’s unfamiliar with, but he doesn’t have any idea what that something is. He likes the way JJ doesn’t revere Viktor, yet liking anything about JJ makes him uneasy. He’s still not entirely sure why, because it isn’t as if finding something to like about someone is bad. The confusion and the indecision make the insecurity worse. Yuri tells himself it has to be because he’s spent the last two months passionately hating JJ, so finding things he approves of now seems sort of awkward.

He wants JJ to go back to being a pretentious asshole but doesn’t know how to set that into motion on his own. At least those interactions are familiar. Yuri’s used to feeling aggravated by people. It might alleviate some of the discomfort. Then again, if that happened, Yuri wouldn’t really have anyone to commiserate with.

Not that he _wants_ to commiserate.

It’s just _different_. Sort of relaxing, in a way. He doesn’t feel quite so alone in his contempt.

“You can thank my fans, by the way,” Yuri says. Katenka wanders over to nuzzle the side of his face again.

“What for?” JJ asks.

“Everything blowing up like this. They started translating the article.”

“At least they’re dedicated.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Yuri hears a soft thump on the other end of the line and imagines JJ has found somewhere to sit down. He can sense JJ’s anger dissipating already. It disappoints Yuri that it didn’t last as long as his own, that JJ seems so much more controlled. Briefly, Yuri wonders if that comes with age, experience, and maturity, but he hates how that makes him feel young and stupid, so he dismisses the thought. He hears JJ sigh and experiences a flash of memory — JJ sitting on the couch in the hotel lobby, elbow on his knee with his head in his hand as he talked on the phone.

Yuri wonders if JJ looks the same now.

“This couldn’t have happened at a worse time,” JJ says.

There’s something very tired and very somber about his tone of voice. Yuri doesn’t think the weariness is from spending all day on a plane. He doesn’t even think the article is the root cause. Something else is obviously weighing on JJ, Yuri just has no idea what it could possibly be. Probably whatever bullshit he and Isabella are creating for one another with their ridiculous relationship drama.

This article must be just another minor inconvenience on top of whatever else JJ has going on in his life. Yuri almost asks, but asking requires a level of sympathy he’s not accustomed to expressing, so he lifts a hand to scratch at Katenka’s head and continues to stare at the ceiling in silence.

“Sorry you got dragged into this,” JJ eventually adds.

“At least for a few hours, more people were talking about me than Viktor,” Yuri says. It comes out sounding flat, and he can’t decide if he meant it as a joke or not.

JJ’s lets out a short laugh. It doesn’t sound as amused as he probably meant it to. “So what does the article say? Izzy says I shouldn’t bother reading it.”

“Just that we’re both terrible people. Something about you being an unfaithful pig. Something about me being too young for you. He spent most of it ripping into you and not me, but at least he acknowledged you for more than your face.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s all he focused on when he talked about me,” Yuri sneers. “Pretty little Yuri Plisetsky, Queen of the ice. Except I only get that title because of how I look. Apparently that’s the only thing about me worth noting.”

Yuri can hear the bitterness in his own voice. The anger he thought he’d worked through in the shower starts to bubble in his gut again. It churns uncomfortably. Makes his chest constrict. Makes his throat feel hot and tight. He swallows it down as best he can, pulls his hand away from Katenka’s fur and scrubs at his face with tense fingers.

“You know that’s not true,” JJ says, slow and careful, like he doesn’t know if Yuri’s going to start ranting at him or not.

“Fuck off,” Yuri tells him, but it’s not as snappy as he wants it to be. “You’ve done it, too.”

“Done what?”

“Mocked me. For how I look.”

“What?” JJ says, and he sounds truly baffled. “I tease you because you’re young and moody. When have I ever mocked you for the way you look?”

Yuri rolls his eyes and tries to mimic JJ’s voice. “ _Ladies first_ …”

The accent probably ruins it. He can’t copy JJ’s exactly. Then there’s the fact that his tone is far more scathing than JJ’s was at the time.

“Wait, _what_?”

“At Rostelecom. After my short program.”

“I remember when, I just — wait — no no no no, that’s not what that was.”

Yuri doesn’t know whether to believe him or not. The hurried manner in which JJ answers makes it difficult to judge his sincerity. Yuri’s spent so long being bitter about that moment, he doesn’t know if it’ll be so easy to let go of the anger.

“Shit,” JJ says. “That’s not — that’s just something people say, you know?”

“No, I _don’t_ know,” Yuri counters.

“I didn’t mean it like an insult. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. I wasn’t — wasn’t looking down on you, I just — it was stupid, okay? Fuck, I was just running my mouth. I didn’t even think about it.”

“It must have been subconscious then.”

“No, I’ve never — shit, Yuri, has that been bothering you this whole time?”

Yuri rubs at his face again, then his fingers curl into a loose fist. He rests it against his forehead, where he can feel the lingering ache from that morning grow progressively worse.

“Do I hate you for it?” Yuri asks. “Yes.”

“You think I was trying to belittle you?”

“That’s how it seemed.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” JJ says, but it’s softer this time, like he’s trying to control his volume. Yuri hears something shift and assumes JJ is climbing onto his feet again. “Okay. Okay, I’m gonna say something and it’s gonna be weird, but I swear to God I don’t mean to be awkward or creepy about it.”

“The warning is already a turn off.”

“This is totally objective, so don’t think I’m trying to make a pass at you or anything.”

“Fuck, just shut up,” Yuri says. His stomach gives an alarming twist.

JJ keeps going. He sounds agitated, like he’s been holding this in for a while and doesn’t know any way to get it out other than to spew a bunch of word vomit over the phone. “Sometimes you just have this… this _air_ about you like you don’t even realize it, or maybe you _do_ realize it but people have been so unsupportive that you’ve grown to hate it or something, and that’s kind of shit, because I figure it means people don’t _tell_ you this sort of stuff—”

“You can stop talking now.”

“—like, _ever_. And maybe if they _did_ tell you, you might not seem like you’re so hard on yourself all the time.”

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut. He presses the side of his fist against his forehead hard, like he can somehow put a stop to this before it becomes uncomfortable. He has no idea what JJ plans to say, but the lead up is suspicious and Yuri thinks it might change things somehow. He doesn’t know how or why. Something about JJ’s voice unnerves him. It’s low and quiet, but sort of rushed. Wary, maybe. Nervous. Or a little inspired. Like, now that he’s begun, JJ can’t make himself stop. Yuri can hear admiration there, just like that night in the hotel lobby, marveling over a different article.

JJ takes a breath, lets it out on a heavy sigh that’s obviously meant to be fortifying, and says, “Have you ever seen someone so devastatingly beautiful it physically hurts you to look at them sometimes?”

Yuri clamps his mouth shut around a response. He holds his breath and doesn’t answer, because the answer’s “no,” and he doesn’t think that’s the answer JJ’s looking for.

JJ doesn’t wait very long to hear anything from him. A few seconds go by at most, then he concludes, “That’s you.”

There’s silence then. It’s weighty and uncomfortable. Yuri thinks his face should be burning, either in anger or embarrassment, but he doesn’t feel any rising heat. On the contrary, he feels suddenly very cold, like all of the blood has drained out of his face. His limbs are stiff and numb. A small coil of panic begins to unfurl in his chest again. The rhythm of his heart becomes slightly erratic. There’s one palpitation, then two in relatively quick succession, and he knows it won’t be long before the nausea is back in full force.

He doesn’t know what to do, and that would usually piss him off, but his anger feels muted now. Yuri thinks he should say something sarcastic. He should insult JJ, swear at him for being an idiot, accuse JJ of making fun of him again, then hang up and never talk to JJ again — _anything_ to make this moment less compelling than it seems. Maybe JJ doesn’t mean anything more by it than just a general observation; he was insistent about that, and Yuri wants to believe him. Anything else wouldn’t make much sense. There’s absolutely nothing between them. They’re not even friends; they’re barely even acquaintances. Yuri suspects there are far more significant things occurring in JJ’s life that make this confession seem pretty meaningless.

But it isn’t meaningless to Yuri, even if he knows it should be, even if he _wants_ it to be — and that’s the scary part, the fact that it has significance despite all of his efforts to remain unaffected. That’s the part he wishes he could stop, but he’s almost certain he won’t be able to. Yuri knows himself too well. He doesn’t have any control over things like this, no matter how hard he tries. He’s surrounded by loud, dramatic people on a daily basis; he knows how much of a difference calm sincerity makes, what sort of an impact the right kind of praise has on his psyche. The walls he’s put up around himself can’t hold up.

He’s terrified of receiving that from JJ of all people. Yuri knows nothing about him, just that his parents are Olympic champions, that he struts around like an arrogant peacock when he hasn’t even made it big yet, and that he has quite a bit of money to his name. None of that makes JJ seem like a worthy companion of any sort. If anything, JJ is exactly the sort of person Yuri should be avoiding, because at a superficial level there is very little differentiating JJ from the likes of Viktor, and Viktor has disappointed Yuri enough that he’s immediately wary of anyone who seems even remotely similar.

Part of Yuri doesn’t want to keep digging for the differences he _knows_ are there. He has no reason to care. If anything, JJ has given him every reason _not_ to. Even if he had, Yuri is convinced that he has no need for friends. Otabek is a rare exception. He’s proven to Yuri that he’s safe. He doesn’t irritate Yuri’s nerves or give Yuri any reason to question his intentions.

But Yuri doesn’t know if he can ignore the way JJ has repeatedly acknowledged him — first that night in the hotel lobby, again at the afterparty, and now over the phone, when Yuri can’t even see JJ’s stupid face to judge his expression. What JJ _says_ sounds genuine, at least. There isn’t even a hint of teasing in his voice.

With that kind of recognition readily available to him, Yuri can’t be certain he’ll be able to continue hating JJ with the same sort of single-minded focus with which he hated him before.

Yuri has no idea what he’s supposed to feel in the place of that hatred.

He’s not sure he can stomach whatever it would be.

JJ takes another breath. Lets it out slow. Laughs in a way that sounds sort of sad and unamused.

“So people never tell you that?” he asks.

Yuri shakes his head. When there’s no immediate response, he realizes what he’s done and tries to form an appropriate answer over the phone. He has to swallow hard to loosen his throat. Even then, it still feels uncomfortably tight.

“Not like that,” Yuri says.

“Like what?”

Yuri keeps his eyes shut and forces himself to breathe slow and deep. “Like it isn’t a bad thing. Or like it’s… obvious. Something I don’t have to work for.”

“You’re crazy gorgeous.”

JJ says it so easily, without a moment’s hesitation, like he isn’t embarrassed to admit it at all. Like it’s undeniable, and JJ can’t understand how other people don’t see that. Yuri listens carefully and studies the intonation of JJ’s voice, tries to find some sign that he’s being flippant or dishonest, but JJ sounds so frank, so earnest, as if it’s important to him that Yuri understands what he’s saying.

And why the fuck would that be important? It shouldn’t matter at all. JJ doesn’t know anything about him either.

“And it isn’t just the way you look,” JJ says. “I mean, _yes_ , you look very — Fuck, I don’t know how to say it in a way you won’t twist into an insult, so I’m not gonna try. But it isn’t just that. It’s the way you move. Like, how you walk. How you hold yourself. How you skate. It’s in your _eyes_.”

Again with the eyes.

Yuri wonders what it is about the eyes that capture the imagination. He’s looked before. That night Otabek commented on them, Yuri peered into the mirror and tried to see it in himself, but he still has no idea what makes his eyes any more remarkable than any other skater on the ice. Is it the color? Is it the grim determination? Is it the fear deep down that makes them seem so intense?

“You’ve got this wild look in your eyes, like… when you figure yourself out, you’re going to be terrifying.”

“Figure what out?” Yuri manages to ask.

He hates that his voice sounds so quiet. He thinks it makes him seem afraid, and he doesn’t want JJ to know that there have been moments when Yuri has stood by him and been a little afraid.

“Who you are,” JJ says. “Who you want to be.”

Yuri takes a low, shaky breath and hopes JJ can’t hear it.

He doesn’t know either of those things.

He knows who he’s been — a desperate boy trying to make a name for himself; trying to be acknowledged; trying to satisfy the expectations of his country; trying to support himself and his grandfather; trying to make the only family he has left proud; trying _so hard_ to make all of the pain and all of the loneliness and all of the sacrifices worth something, to make _himself_ worth something. His whole life, he’s fought just for a _chance_ , pushed himself beyond what everyone thought he was capable of, searching for something he can’t even name, something he isn’t even sure exists.

He’s spent that last eight months painstakingly pulling himself apart piece by piece, searching for answers he still hasn’t found. He’s tried to build something from the scraps, tried to work through the fear and the confusion enough to create something bold and new, something he can be proud of, something he can show the world with confidence, something to prove that he is more than what he was before, that what he can do and what he can be are both extraordinary.

 _“You thought you knew me, but you don’t know me at all,”_ has been the message he’s attempted to get across this season.

He has an idea of who he might be now — someone fierce and driven, someone strong, but still lost and still broken, stuck in the middle of putting himself back together, sifting through the pieces for something that makes sense.

Who he wants to be is a different story. Looking ahead — a year into the future, two years, a decade from now — Yuri finds that he’s incapable of imagining the person he’s on the road to becoming. What does that person look like? How does that person behave? What does that person think? How does that person feel? He considers those questions every time he sets another piece into place, and the fact that he has no answers scares him, makes the foundation he’s created to build that person upon start to split and shake.

He doesn’t know what that means, but he thinks it might be a sign that he’s more lost than he realized. Maybe he doesn’t know anything about himself after all, and all he’s done so far has been one useless effort after the next.

The only things Yuri knows for sure about himself are the two things that make him the Russian Fairy and the Russian Punk.

He is pretty, and he is angry.

Anger is something he’s used to propel himself forward. It fuels the fire in his heart when he has nothing else left. In moments of doubt, when he can feel himself slipping, when he isn’t sure what to do to break through the next barrier, he turns to spite and bitterness because those things are powerful and familiar. They give him that burst of strength necessary to take things one step further. But anger has its shortcomings. Anger is quick and erratic. It will not sustain him forever. It will not help him thrive. It’s useful only over the short term, when he needs to hurry forward before he’s left behind.

Prettiness has been the one constant in Yuri’s skating since he first became aware that his face and his frame earn attention, because it’s something he can convey without trying. Yuri knows there’s a difference between true beauty and the prettiness that secured him the title of the Russian Fairy. Prettiness is tangible. It’s physical — a face and a body. People are born pretty. He certainly was, and it’s only become more apparent the older he’s grown. He knows prettiness can be bought, too. It can be faked. It can be used as a mask to conceal the ugliness inside.

Beauty is attained from experience, from passion. Beauty is beyond the physical. It’s in the heart, and the mind, and the soul. It’s in thoughts and emotions — the very _essence_ of a person’s being.

Lilia speaks of beauty as if it’s an achievement, as if it’s something to strive for, something deep within oneself that only the worthy can ever truly learn to wield. It exists to be mastered, but it can’t be constructed from nothing. She teaches Yuri how to look for it within himself, how to maintain it, how to use it to his advantage. Yuri thinks he’s found something like it, something he can utilize while he continues to search for the real thing.

JJ speaks of beauty as if it’s implicit, as if it’s something pure and effortless.

“Do you have any idea how intimidating that is?” JJ asks.

The only emotion Yuri can recognize in that moment is confusion. He blinks rapidly a few times. He keeps his eyes open after and stares at the ceiling again, drawing in another breath as slowly and as quietly as he can manage.

“What is?”

“You. How beautiful you are,” JJ says. “And then on top of that, you have so much talent. You’re so fucking tiny, but you have this massive presence, like you can fill an entire stadium. You make everything you do look so easy. You skate, and it’s like you make the ice your bitch.”

Yuri likes that. He likes that a lot. Something in his chest gives another nervous quiver, and he’s not sure what it is, but he thinks it might be his heart again. It can’t be his lungs, because those don’t feel as if they’re working very well.

There’s still a hateful part of him that wishes he didn’t have to hear this sort of shit from JJ. If it were Otabek, Yuri could feel flattered and pleased, and he wouldn’t have to think twice about it.

He can feel his animosity slowly melting away. Yuri wants to hold onto it, wants to guard himself with it, because this seems stupid and dangerous. He doesn’t have the time or the patience for it. He doesn’t have the right mentality to really understand it.

“Sometimes it’s like you’re not even real,” JJ continues. “This year was supposed to be my year, you know? But you came up and I knew if anyone was going to outshine me, it was going to be you. So I joked around with you, and I teased you, because I thought maybe by doing that I could bring you down to my level.”

“It never seemed like that,” Yuri says. “It just seemed like you were a pompous ass.”

JJ laughs quietly again. “Yeah, well, I’m good at making everyone think I believe my own hype, I guess.”

It’s clear now that JJ might not believe it after all. Yuri almost asks him what he believes instead, what he wants to accomplish by acting with vanity. Curiosity is a powerful force, but uncertainty is stronger; Yuri’s unfamiliarity with sympathy keeps him silent.

“To be honest…” JJ starts, then hesitates. Yuri hears him release a frustrated breath. “I’m almost surprised you haven’t used it yet.”

“Used what?” Yuri asks.

“The way you look.”

Yuri can feel his brows furrow. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve used it my entire career.”

“Yeah, but… you’ve been sort of reserved about it. Maybe that’s because you have to be, I don’t know.”

“Reserved?”

“Like you’ve been holding back.”

Yuri doesn’t bother to conceal his annoyance. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Yes, you idiot, I know what reserved means.”

“Sorry, I feel like I’m pushing my luck. You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.”

“You’re the one who made things awkward.”

JJ responds with amusement in his voice. “Hey, I told you I wasn’t making a pass at you.”

“One can only hope that’s true.”

“We’re just talking one friend to another.”

Yuri is happy that his face can still crease with disgust. “I don’t recall saying we were friends.”

“Yeah, okay,” JJ says with another laugh.

“Just tell me what you meant by reserved.”

JJ hesitates a moment longer. He takes another audible breath, but finally seems to decide to spit it out before he can second guess himself again.

“I meant that you haven’t really pushed the boundaries with it yet. When Viktor was younger, he had that whole androgyny thing going on for a while, right? But he never took it beyond that. I thought you might be the type to show him up. Just shove it in people’s faces and go all out.”

There’s another moment of silence between them. JJ seems content to let the topic hang there for the time being, and Yuri doesn’t want to admit that he _has_ entertained the thought once or twice even if he’s never been able to convince himself that it would be a good idea. It isn’t that he thinks JJ will judge him for it; JJ has been rather candid so far, so Yuri is willing to accept that the comment in Moscow might not have been as malicious as Yuri assumed it to be. What stops Yuri now is that he can’t be sure he’ll be able to suppress the impulse to go through with it if he shares that ambition with someone who seems like he might encourage Yuri along.

Yuri doesn’t think he has any particular inclination toward femininity. He’s not repulsed by it, but he’s not sure that it appeals to him any more than overt masculinity does, except that it often seems like it could be less obnoxious in others by comparison. At most, femininity and masculinity are concepts to play with. He’s of the opinion that both have their merits if wielded correctly by the right people, but that an abundance of one over the other is ultimately undesirable.

Still, it _is_ in Yuri’s nature to outdo people. Outdoing Viktor at something he’s been lauded for would satisfy the part of Yuri that wants to outperform him.

Yuri is certainly aware of the impression his appearance makes. On more than one occasion, he’s used it to his advantage; being the Russian Fairy has taken him far. Just as often, he’s considered taking it a step further. He’s edged toward it with the prima ballerina motif Lilia has encouraged him to adopt this year, but he doesn’t know that he’s been as successful as either of them had hoped he would be in the beginning. So far, Lilia has kept her opinions to herself. Yuri isn’t sure he can stomach the thought of failing, so he’s made a point not to ask.

In the end, there are two issues preventing Yuri from fully committing to the idea.

The first is that he has no way of knowing how crossing the line into blatant femininity would be received. Parts of the world are more receptive than others. Yuri knows this. He’s seen it during his travels. Figure skating itself has not stagnated either. It’s progressed to a degree, but it hasn’t made such great strides that Yuri can say with confidence that an attempt would be favored in any way. It could be a successful work of artistry, or it could backfire completely.

Others have toed the line before. Georgi favors theatrics, Chris’s skating is notoriously sensual, and Viktor explored androgyny at a time when the wider world was much less accepting.

But they are all more established skaters, and their respective aesthetics don’t earn them much untoward attention off of the ice — with the possible exception of Chris, who makes little to no effort to censor himself. Yuri feels the need to be more mindful of what he does with his competitive programs. _Because_ he is thin. _Because_ his is pretty. _Because_ he knows the sorts of things that cross one’s mind when they see him. It’s been a balancing act, infusing his programs with a certain level of elegance and sensitivity without coming across as overly effeminate.

The second issue is how much he may still have left to grow. Yuri is hesitant to try something that would rely so heavily on his appearance when he can’t be sure it will remain the same for long.

A part of him is hopeful. In a year, he has not grown taller, and his frame has not changed in any significant way. A costume Viktor wore in his Junior days fits Yuri a little loosely. He is smaller than Viktor was at nearly sixteen. He has always been smaller than Viktor was. All evidence seems to suggest that he will remain smaller — that he will never have Viktor’s height, that there will always be something very slender about his frame.

Unfortunately, Yuri can’t afford to rely on hope. The fact of the matter is that Yuri doesn’t know what will become of him. He’s afraid he might already be running on borrowed time, like things could change at any moment and the image he’s relied on for so long will slip away from him. He hates the uncertainty, that he can’t predict how much his body might develop from one year to the next. He likes the way he looks now. He’s found a use for it; so far, it’s been more of a benefit than a hindrance. He doesn’t want that to change. He doesn’t want his skating to be affected. He doesn’t want to have to relearn his own body when he’s already grown so comfortable with the tools he has at his disposal.

“Do you hate it?” JJ asks when the silence has stretched too long.

“Hate what?”

“The way you look.”

JJ says it slow and quiet, like he can’t anticipate how Yuri will react, like he’s worried he might accidentally say the wrong thing.

“No,” Yuri says. “I hate when people assume I must think or behave a certain way because of it. I hate when people assume it means I’m weak. I hate when people act as if it makes me lesser. But, no, I don’t hate the way I look. What, you think I want to look like you?”

JJ laughs. “I’m pretty sure you would do everything in your power to ensure that you and I never have anything in common beyond a grudge against Viktor.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look then.”

“What, seriously? I just finished waxing poetic about you and you’re still gonna be mean to me? I thought we were over that. You wound me, babe.”

So the nicknames are back. Yuri wants to be annoyed by it but can’t do more than roll his eyes. He assumes the switch from his name to a nickname means that JJ has progressed into a better mood.

Yuri misses the anger. That was familiar even if he’s never seen JJ angry before. Hearing it was comforting. Having to deal with the nicknames instead should be aggravating. They were before, when JJ starting spouting them off in Barcelona, one after the other. Tiny Dancer. Babe. Little Bit. Yuri doesn’t see the point in them. He knows they’re meant to tease him, and he’s never in the mood to be teased. He isn’t now.

But he’s not pissed off by their return, and he doesn’t know why that’s the case.

“I never asked you to say any of that shit,” Yuri says. He doesn’t even _sound_ angry. At most, he sounds sort of tired and detached. “I told you to stop talking.”

“Am I not the most complimentary boyfriend?”

The snort Yuri releases could be amused or unamused. Even he can’t tell.

“You must not be if your girlfriend broke up with you.”

“Ouch,” JJ says. He’s laughing again. It’s low and quiet. He sounds pleased even when he replies with an insult. “You better watch it, you little bastard. Keep attacking me like this and I’m gonna turn on you one day.”

Yuri struggles not to smirk. He chews on the inside of his cheek and says, “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Next they’ll be writing about our dramatic public break up.”

“I will hang up on you.”

“You would have done that awhile ago if you were going to,” JJ says. He releases an exaggerated sigh. “But I guess I’ve already fucked up big time if you thought I was mocking you in Moscow. Now I’m gonna have to rethink my whole image.”

“You should have rethought your image years ago.”

JJ says something, but it’s drowned out by a sharp knock against Yuri’s doorjamb. Yuri jerks back into awareness and bolts upright on his bed to find Lilia standing in the doorway, looking in on him with her usual austere frown.

“Yuri,” she says. “Bed.”

There’s not really anything abnormal about the situation, at least nothing more than the fact that he’s talking to JJ without feeling the overwhelming need to bite his head off. Lilia coming into the room to order him around is so routine at this point, Yuri would have been expecting it at any moment if he wasn’t so distracted. The firm tone of Lilia’s voice is the same as it always is. The unflappable look on her face is no different than usual. She doesn’t seem any more interested in what he’s doing or who he’s talking to than she would be if she knew he was talking to Mila.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Yuri is overcome by the feeling that he’s done something he shouldn’t have — like she’s walked in on him making a nuisance of himself on social media after she explicitly told him not to, or like she’s caught him gorging himself on junk food after she’s put so much effort into constructing a proper diet for him. He feels suddenly caught off his guard. That sick, nervous feeling is back with a vengeance somewhere in his chest. He’s anxious and jittery, taken by the sudden need to hide something, but he has no idea what he should be hiding, or why he should have to.

“I have to go,” Yuri says into the phone. He’s so unsettled, he can’t even focus enough to hate how tight his voice sounds.

JJ must have noticed, though, because his response it a little hesitant. “Okay, I’ll—”

“Yeah, okay, sure, whatever,” Yuri rambles, but that sounds stupid, so he dredges up as much bluster as he can manage and says, “Fuck off, Shithead.”

He hangs up before JJ can say anything else.

Yuri drops his phone onto the bed like getting it out of his hand as fast as humanly possible will fix things somehow. He keeps staring at Lilia like he expects her to start questioning him, and he has no idea how he’s supposed to answer her because nothing about this makes any sense. Confusion overwhelms him. He has no idea what time it is or how long he’s been on the phone. He suspects Lilia might have overheard parts of the conversation, and he’s freaking out that what she heard was weird or fucked up, because he can’t even remember half of the things he said.

The only parts of the exchange playing in his head are the things JJ said, but Lilia can’t have overheard any of that. Only the people on JJ’s end…

Isabella was _right there_. She could have been listening the entire time. Or JJ’s parents, who must have been around even if Yuri didn’t hear them. That should make the situation seem less consequential. It had to have been totally innocent. Yuri can’t imagine JJ would say anything weird around his parents or his ex-fiancée, who he clearly still has a pleasant relationship with, if he didn’t spout that kind of shit off to people all the time. Yet the thought of anyone overhearing makes Yuri feel even more awkward about it than he already does. If Yuri knew how to justify the things JJ was saying, maybe he could brush it off as nothing, but he’s still unsure what JJ meant by it.

What was the point of it? What the hell was JJ trying to accomplish?

And why the fuck should it matter one way or the other?

Lilia has Yuri’s hairbrush in hand. She crosses into his room to make her way toward his bathroom, where she deposits it onto the counter and tuts at the mess he left on the floor.

“You’ll take care of your laundry in the morning,” she tells him.

“Right,” he says.

She takes the empty mug he left on the counter as she makes her way back out. “Brush your teeth,” she continues, approaching his bed long enough to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. “Sleep. No puttering around on your computer.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Yuri forces a little more hostility into his voice, so he seems more annoyed than uncomfortable.

Lilia stops in the doorway again and waits. When Yuri doesn’t move, she snaps her fingers at him impatiently.

Yuri jumps off of the bed in an instant. He digs through his duffel bag until he finds his toothbrush and toothpaste. He grabs the tub of moisturizer while he’s at it, just so Lilia doesn’t have anything else to breath down his neck over. She waits him out like before, lingering in the doorway while he aggressively brushes his teeth and smears moisturizer over his face.

She seems satisfied when he’s done, if the subtle easing of her expression is any indication.

“Good night,” she says, and her voice actually sounds a little soft.

She doesn’t seem troubled by anything. She doesn’t seem suspicious. Everything about this situation is disturbingly normal, and it makes Yuri uncomfortable, because everything else feels so fucking bizarre.

Yuri makes himself sound mildly harassed when he responds, “‘Night.”

Lilia turns off the overhead light once Yuri’s settled on the edge of the bed again. When she leaves the room, she closes the door behind her. Yuri listens to her quiet footsteps fade away down the hall. He hears another door open and close. Then the house is quiet. The only thing he hears for a minute or two is the wind outside.

The sound of his phone vibrating with a text message startles him enough that he jumps and curses.

He knows it’s JJ without having to look. Yuri almost ignores it as a result. He feels unsteady enough without giving JJ the opportunity to make things even weirder. He doesn’t know why he gives in, just that he’s curious in spite of himself.

 _‘Fair warning,’_ JJ says, ' _I’m gonna tell Liam Morrison to suck my dick’_

Yuri pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and gnaws on a piece of loose skin there.

He doesn’t answer. He makes himself dig through his luggage for his phone cord, then plugs it in and leaves it on the side table while he curls up with Katenka.

Sleep did not come easy while he was in Barcelona.

Tonight is no different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Yuri’s cat as a canon name now? Don’t know, don’t care, not changing anything.


	5. Young God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri stalks people online, digs around for information about JJ, and tries to deal with his confusion by being angry, which naturally doesn’t work out too well.

“He says, ‘Ooo, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends;  
I'm the king and you're the queen and we will stumble through heaven.  
If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes;  
I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight.’”

["Young God" by Halsey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUhJRQSs6UQ)

* * *

 

JJ is not a difficult person to locate on social media.

Yuri spends three hours tossing and turning before he resigns himself to another night of shitty sleep. When he finally gives up and returns to his phone, he finds JJ’s Twitter account in a matter of seconds.

JJ’s also true to his word.

_‘suck my dick @liammorrison’_

The exchange that follows is surprisingly short.

Liam Morrison says, _‘not helping your case at all are you?’_

JJ replies, _‘u seem pretty interested in what my dick gets up to is all. thought u might like the chance to worship it with more than just your words.’_

Liam Morrison says, _‘doesn’t seem like you need my help with that’_

And JJ brings it to a close with, _‘you sick fuck, next time you wanna take a pic out of context and make up bullshit, maybe leave the 15 yr old out of it.’_

That’s it. That’s all it takes. That’s how the fabricated dating drama comes to an end. By early morning, the attention shifts from Yuri and JJ and their non-existent relationship to Liam Morrison, his motives and his questionable tactics. A particular segment of figure skating fans trounce Liam Morrison for the indecency of using a young teenager to bring attention to his own grievances against JJ, which leads to Yuri’s Angels and JJ Girls the world over suddenly putting aside their differences and coming together to give that fucker so much shit, the whole scandal implodes on itself before it’s even twenty-four hours old.

Yuri would be impressed if he wasn’t so determined to hold onto the last shreds of his hatred.

 _‘First, you’re fucking gross,’_ he texts JJ just before sunrise. _‘Second, fuck you I’m fifteen not five’_

 _‘I honestly don’t give a shit how old you are,’_ JJ replies, _‘but other people do so fuck yeah I’m gonna use that to our advantage’_

The “our advantage” bit earns a very dark glare even hours later, because Yuri didn’t have anything to do with it, and he doesn’t like being lumped in with JJ to begin with.

Ultimately, Yuri’s frustrated that he couldn’t handle the situation on his own. He feels young and stupid again, and completely powerless. He can’t even pretend that he would have been able to turn things around as easily as JJ managed to. At most, Yuri would have gone off on a rambling tangent and hurled a slew of colorful insults that likely would have served no greater purpose than to blow off some steam. As much as Yuri hates to admit it, there’s a very good chance he would have made things worse. Both Yakov and Lilia seem to be in agreement that he would be better off keeping his mouth shut as much as possible.

In their defense, he hasn’t given them many reasons to think otherwise.

By the time the worst of it is over, it all seems very anticlimactic, and Yuri’s left struggling to interpret the odd mix of irritation and satisfaction he experiences in the scandal’s wake.

“Someone needs to put a muzzle on that boy,” Yakov grumbles over breakfast the next morning.

Yuri sits at the table, listlessly shoving spoonfuls of yogurt, granola, and berries into his mouth as he scrolls through Twitter again. He can’t decide what he’s more annoyed by: the fact that he’s been stuck twiddling his thumbs while JJ single-handedly took on the brunt of the drama, or Yakov’s continued bitching about it.

“At least he got everyone off our backs,” Yuri mumbles.

He absolutely _hates_ it. Coming to JJ’s defense is something he never thought he’d ever want to do. He still doesn’t _want_ to, honestly. Not really. He only bothers to exert the effort because he’s bitter that Yakov wouldn’t let him vent.

Yakov looks indignant in the face of Yuri’s logic, but he doesn’t say anything else. It’s hard to tell how Lilia feels about any of it, given that she looks no less composed than usual. She sits next to Yuri and idly sips her tea. If Yuri didn’t know better, he might assume she didn’t care about the situation at all.

She sounds totally unmoved when she changes the subject and says, “You’ll rest today.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and forces down the last of his yogurt. “I don’t need to rest.”

“You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

He doesn’t bother asking how she can be so sure of that. He’s given up trying to figure out how she seems to know everything.

“You have laundry to do,” she reminds him.

Yuri lets out an exaggerated huff that rustles the hair hanging over his face. He shoves his chair back with a little too much force and nearly knocks it over. Lilia frowns at him, but Yuri ignores her and stomps into the kitchen to drop his spoon and empty bowl into the sink.

He doesn’t want to rest, even if he’s exhausted, even if he _knows_ his days off are just as important as the six days a week he spends training. He’s too restless for sleep, or for chores, or for the studying he knows Yakov will pressure him to get done while he has the chance. None of that seems important to begin with, less so with Nationals to prepare for. He feels like he’s wasting valuable time, like slowing down for even a moment could have detrimental effects on his progress.

But no amount of complaining will sway Yakov or Lilia, so Yuri saves himself the stress of another argument and pretends to go along with whatever they want.

He unpacks his luggage only as much as he has to, since they’ll be heading out of town again soon anyway. He collects his dirty laundry and shoves it all into the washing machine Lilia has but rarely uses herself. Then he spreads out on his bed with his laptop and surrounds himself with his study materials. He leaves the bedroom door open so Yakov and Lilia can look in to see him “being productive” whenever they pass by.

He’s not productive at all. When he’s not zoned out listening to music, Yuri spends most of the morning stalking his new acquaintances on social media.

 _‘You have the most boring online presence,’_ he texts Otabek.

Yuri’s found Otabek’s Instagram and Twitter, but there’s little to no difference between what’s posted on either one of them. Otabek’s only been active on both for about eight months. He never posts more than pictures, and the ones he chooses have very little to do with his day-to-day life. The oldest picture is from the end of March, when Otabek won bronze at his first World Championships; the most recent is the group picture they took after the Final. The rest are pictures from around Almaty. Some scenic shots. A few pictures of Otabek that were all clearly taken by other people. There are absolutely no selfies, and Otabek doesn’t use tags or leave many comments.

Yuri follows him anyway. It’s not as if Yuri has much room to judge, considering his penchant for one word comments and minimal tags. Really, the only difference is that Yuri likes to think his pictures show more character.

 _‘Social media is a plague unto this world,’_ Otabek texts back.

Yuri snorts. He suspects Otabek might not the biggest fan of texting either. Their conversations came easily in Barcelona, but aside from a few brief messages earlier that morning (ranging from “still not going to participate in assisted suicide” to “probably best to leave the drama alone” and “going to crash for a few hours”), Yuri hasn’t gotten much out of him since they parted ways. He hopes it’s just because Otabek’s been busy and tired.

 _‘Or you just don’t know how to use it,’_ Yuri says.

 _‘Not that difficult to figure out is it?_  
_I just don’t feel the need to share every moment of my life_  
_Also I don’t want to risk giving people anything to use against me’_

 _‘Makes sense,’_ Yuri says, then asks,  _‘But how do you network?’_

 _‘The old fashioned way,’_ Otabek responds.

_‘What like actually talking to people?’_

_‘It’s worked for centuries’_

_‘But it’s so exhausting,’_ Yuri complains.

 _‘True_  
_Easier to judge someone’s intentions that way though’_

_‘What are your thoughts on Skype or FaceTime?’_

_‘They’re awkward but for the sake of my family I tolerated them when I was overseas’_

_‘What if I wanted to?’_ Yuri asks.

 _‘Do you?_  
_I’d tolerate it again if it’s easier than texting’_

Yuri is pleased by this admission, even if he agrees with Otabek’s assessment.

 _‘Can’t right now,’_ Yuri tells him. _‘Yakov and Lilia think I’m studying’_

_‘What are you really doing?’_

_‘Obviously I was stalking you but I’ve already gone through everything you’ve posted so I guess I’ll move on to someone else’_

_‘Phichit’s stuff might be more entertaining’_

_‘Fuck I wonder if he has any embarrassing pictures of katsudon when they were in Detroit’_

It takes Yuri a while to find out, because Phichit posts multiple times a day. Based on what Yuri has already learned of him, the sheer number of selfies is unsurprising. There are dozens of pictures from the last several days alone — tourist sights in Barcelona, selfies backstage during the Final, multiple pictures with Yuuri, and Viktor, and Chris. Between skating events, Phichit posts a lot of pictures and videos around Bangkok, shots of his coaches, his family, his friends, and his hamsters. Yuri struggles to find the hamster pictures cute. He’s never been particularly fond of rodents.

Yuri goes further back — before the Cup of China, before the off season, before the 2015 World Championships. He spends an hour scrolling through eight months of nothing until he starts finding the evidence of Phichit’s and Yuuri’s years in Detroit. They seemed to enjoy themselves. Yuuri doesn’t look entirely happy in the early part of 2015, but when Yuri finally gets to the months before Yuuri’s last place finish at the 2014 Grand Prix Final, everything shows that for much of his time in the States, Yuuri appeared to be in better spirits than he was just before he left. There are pictures of the two of them at a number of sporting events, at restaurants eating food in appalling portion sizes, hanging around outside of theaters, and in the middle of crowded music festivals.

Disappointingly, none of them turn out to be very embarrassing. Phichit never posts a bad photo. The lighting is almost always perfect, and Phichit consistently manages to capture his and Yuuri’s most photogenic expressions. The videos aren’t much different. It’s maddening. Yuri doesn’t know how Phichit does it. Even being naturally pretty hasn’t saved Yuri from some truly awful pictures.

 _‘No luck,’_ he texts Otabek.

 _‘Try Chris_  
_He doesn’t seem to have anything against embarrassing himself’_

 _‘I already follow Chris_  
_He posts a lot of pictures of his cat when he’s not being slutty_  
_So’_

_‘I’m not even surprised’_

Lilia appears in Yuri’s doorway. Yuri quickly switches out of the social media tabs so that the only thing Lilia can see on his computer are some scholarly historical articles that look like they might be pertinent to some of the notes he has scattered around his bed. She says something to him, but he has to pause his music to hear her.

“What?” he says.

“Don’t forget your laundry,” she tells him.

Yuri lets his head fall back in a show of annoyance. He huffs and pulls his headphones off so he can roll off of his bed, crumpling papers and knocking one of his books to the floor in the process. He stalks by Lilia. She only frowns at him and waits to make sure he completes the task of switching his clothes from the washer to the dryer.

“You have people do your laundry for you,” he says accusingly, arms full of damp clothes.

“Are you fifty-nine?” she asks him.

“No.”

“Have you spent close to three decades performing?”

“No,” Yuri grumbles.

“Do you have the money to pay other people for their services?”

“No.”

“Then you will continue to do your laundry yourself,” Lilia concludes.

Yuri shouldn’t complain. It’s not as if he didn’t do his own laundry before moving into Lilia’s house, but her hounding him about it makes him feel weird. He knows it’s the sort of thing a mother might do, and he always has mixed feelings about maternal figures. Mila would tease him and say he gravitates toward them. Yuri doesn’t think that’s true, doesn’t _want_ to think that’s true, because old memories start to resurface when he considers it, and even though all of them aren’t bad, he doesn’t want to give the shitty ones a chance to come back into focus.

So he grumbles and complains and glares at Lilia on his way back to his room. He throws himself onto his bed and jams his headphones onto his head again. He turns his music back on to block out anything else Lilia might have to say. She watches him from the doorway for a few moments, so Yuri tugs a math workbook out from under Katenka’s sleeping form and flips to the section he left off on the last time he bothered to touch any of his study materials.

Lilia leaves him to it a few moments later. Yuri considers returning to his online stalking, but he doesn’t trust Yakov or Lilia not to check his work to make sure he actually did some of it, so he does a bunch of math problems just to have something to show them. Lilia seems satisfied when she comes back an hour later to bring him a mid-morning snack. She still pesters him to take his laundry out of the dryer, but she doesn’t sound as commanding about it and Yuri follows her directions without any more complaints. He’s only obstinate about folding any of it. Yuri waits for her to leave again before dumping it all into his drawers without a care for making it neat or organized.

Yuri manages to keep himself off of his computer until after lunch, which he thinks is a pretty decent accomplishment deserving of a reward. So he takes a break and spends a little while going through Yuuri’s social media in case he missed anything when he conducted his initial round of stalking soon after leaving Japan. After scanning through more pictures from the Cup of China, Yuri ends up switching from Yuuri’s relatively inactive feed to Guang Hong Ji’s notably more colorful online presence.

He’s still sort of bored by it all until he comes across some of the pictures Guang Hong posted on Instagram over the summer. Yuri doesn’t recognize the locations, but the photos gain his attention because he knows what Leo de la Iglasia looks like, and he sees a lot of JJ’s dumb face in the pictures, too.

There are pictures of them at a beach — JJ and Leo throwing a frisbee around, JJ and Leo wading in the water with a bikini clad Isabella and another scantily dressed girl on their shoulders, then Guang Hong and Leo posing at a distance from some admittedly impressive looking sandcastles. There are pictures of them in someone’s living space playing video games, outside throwing a basketball around, and sitting around a picnic table with paper plates piled high with food. There are pictures of them at some sort of amusement park — standing in line for rides, eating popcorn and ice cream, and hanging around with Isabella and the same girl from the beach photos, plus a few more people Yuri doesn’t know.

There are pictures of them at an aquarium, and at several other museums Yuri’s never seen before. There are pictures of Leo in the tackiest star-spangled red, white, and blue clothing Yuri’s ever seen, and a video of fireworks posted on July 4th, which Yuri figures is indication enough that they were somewhere in the United States at the time. There’s another video posted in June, of Leo and JJ at a baseball game, sporting different ballcaps but singing “Sweeeeeet Caaaroliiiiiiine, BAH BAH BAH” along with the rest of the obnoxious crowd.

Then there’s a picture of the three of them crouching over a line of bronze duckling statues that makes Yuri do a double take, because Grandpa has a picture of him as a child sitting on the exact same statues in Moscow.

Yuri’s phone vibrates with a text message before he can continue his perusal. He expects Otabek again, but isn’t completely surprised when it’s JJ instead.

_‘The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful stop me and steal my breath~’_

Yuri frowns and reads the message three times to make sure he hasn’t misunderstood JJ’s meaning. He’s pretty sure JJ’s teasing him again, but Yuri still texts back, _‘What the fuck?????????’_

 _‘Just serenading you_  
_Got to remind you you’re beautiful’_

 _‘Fuck you_  
_Stop_  
_It’s so fucking creepy’_

 _‘Nope_  
_Don’t care_  
_Going to tell you everyday’_

A feeling Yuri can only describe as “mild horror” unfurls in his chest. Their conversation over the phone last night was awkward enough without JJ being an obnoxious ass about it.

 _‘Fuck no,’_ Yuri says. _‘Why the fuck would you do that????????’_

_‘Someone’s got to’_

_‘Did you come up with that bullshit about the strands in my eyes on your own???????’_

_‘Haha no that’s an older song_  
_Well if you consider something from 97 or 98 old_  
_Older than you but not me’_

_‘If it’s older than me it’s ancient’_

_‘Hahahaha_  
_And emeralds from mountains thrust toward the sky never revealing their depth~’_

Yuri doesn’t completely understand that line in relation to the first one, but he doesn’t want to admit it and risk prolonging the exchange. He assumes it’s some nonsense about his eyes being green and mysterious, and almost fires off a few more insults for good measure.

JJ continues before he can.

 _‘The rest doesn’t really fit our situation tho so I’ll leave it there_  
_Except I guess I’m a fan???????_  
_Omg do I get to be a Yuri’s angel now???????????????’_

 _‘Fuck no,’_ Yuri says again.

JJ texts back, _‘I’ll be the greatest fan of your life~’_

Yuri feels a bit like throwing his phone across the room, but Lilia was pissed the last time he threw his phone and had to get the screen replaced, so he quells the impulse with a threat.

_‘Do you want me to punch you the next time I see you?’_

_‘If you didn’t punch me after you thought I was mocking you in Moscow I doubt you’ll punch me over this,’_ JJ says.

He has a point.

Yuri, of course, will not admit that to him.

 _‘I would have done more than punch you in Moscow_  
_The ISU would have had me suspended indefinitely’_

 _‘That’s somewhat concerning_  
_You still won’t do it tho_  
_I’m onto you_  
_I think you’re all bark and no bite’_

 _‘You keep thinking that shithead_  
_And the next time you’re in Moscow_  
_Ask a little bitch named Anton Sokolov why he doesn’t fuck with me anymore’_

 _‘I feel like there could be a really entertaining story there_  
_But I also feel like you could be bullshitting me’_

Yuri rolls his eyes. _‘Don’t assume you’re safe just because you’ve got me talking to you,’_ he texts.

 _‘I’m scared babe,’_ JJ says, and Yuri knows it’s a taunt. _‘So scared’_

 _‘Fuck_  
_Off’_

JJ’s either satisfied with the length of their conversation or he has other things to do, because that’s the last text either of them send to each other that day.

Yuri drops his phone onto his bed with a growl. He returns to his computer and does what he should have done the night before. He pulls up JJ’s Twitter account long enough to click on “@liammorrison” and begins searching through whatever links he finds for all the other bullshit this guy’s apparently been writing about JJ.

Yuri’s search takes him to a few other websites he’s never been on before, where he finds other posts and articles similar to the one posted yesterday. Most of it _is_ bullshit. Yuri can figure that out on his own when he stumbles across the shit Liam Morrison has to say about JJ’s charity work, because when he actually sees the pictures of JJ surrounded by a bunch of excited kids, it’s hard even for someone as cynical as Yuri is to think that the smile on JJ’s face looks fake. A good deal of the rest of the dating drama seems fabricated too; most of the pictures are much less compromising than the one of Yuri and JJ, and tend to involve nothing more than JJ being in the general vicinity of another attractive human being.

There’s something from earlier in the year about JJ briefly dating a famous supermodel that makes Yuri laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. The pictures of them at whatever party they happened to meet at show them talking at a respectful distance from one another and nothing more. Then there’s something from 2014 about JJ being seen around Toronto with some up and coming musician Yuri’s never heard of. One of the pictures shows JJ kissing the side of the guy’s face, but the rest are just them walking around town together or sitting down for some coffee.

The only thing that seems legitimate is a post about JJ’s previous Instagram account being deleted for violating the terms and conditions. Yuri backtracks and closes out of that before he can scroll down and see any of the incriminating photos, because he remembers what JJ said about posting nudes while he was drunk, and Yuri most certainly does _not_ want to have any photographic evidence of that in his head.

The fact that most of what Liam Morrison writes has to do with JJ’s love life makes Yuri wonder if Liam Morrison has some weird, vaguely sexual obsession with JJ, resulting in a lot of pent up anger as well as some misplaced jealousy. Yuri can’t think of any other reason for the obvious preoccupation, so he digs up whatever personal information he can find on Liam Morrison and discovers that he’s only 25, lives in Detroit of all places (where another Liam Morrison article says JJ competed at Skate America in 2013), and has been writing for some stupid figure skating gossip blog since he graduated from college in 2012, which happened to be JJ’s first year in the Senior Division.

Yuri laughs to himself again and imagines Liam Morrison as some sad, pathetic loser sitting behind a computer in stained underwear, crying as he writes another furious post about JJ shaking a pretty girl’s hand.

The imagery makes Yuri feel sort of catty. He grabs his phone, takes his headphones off, flops onto his back, and snaps a few selfies until he ends up with one he thinks makes him look pretty instead of punkish, with his hair spread out around him and his eyes looking as sensuously drowsy as a skinny fifteen year old can possibly look. He doesn’t know what to comment or what sort of tags to use, so he looks up “popular songs about being young and pretty,” and eventually posts the photo with the tags “#winner,” “#restday,” “#sotired,” and “#teenagedream.”

For the next hour, Yuri splits his attention between his school work and compulsively checking Instagram.

He gets the usual comments from his fans — how amazing he is, how much they love him. A few of them mention the Liam Morrison drama. Some of them want to know Yuri’s opinion; others conclude that Yuri has no reason to involve himself with someone of Liam Morrison’s ilk.

Georgi comments in Russian, “Miss that sweet face! ❤”

Mila comments with a kiss emoji.

The Nishigori triplets comment with a heart-eyed cat emoji.

Guang Hong likes the post but doesn’t comment, which Yuri’s used to after their years in the Junior Division together. He’s always suspected that Guang Hong is not-so-secretly terrified of him.

A half hour after that, Phichit comments in English, “Fierce smize!”

Yuri has to look up what “smize” means. Once he’s read a short blurb on the history of the term, he isn’t the least bit surprised that it’s a part of Phichit’s vocabulary. He follows Phichit back on a whim. Yuri wasn’t even aware that Phichit was following him until that moment, but it’s not like Phichit managed to annoy him all that much in Barcelona, and there’s always a chance Phichit might post some awkward throwback photos of Yuuri one day.

A sophie-leroy01 likes the post only a short while before Jjleroy!15 comments with a crown emoji.

Yuri doesn’t know whether he should be annoyed, or if feeling weirdly gratified is actually totally acceptable in this situation.

Yakov doesn’t seem very impressed by any of it over dinner. He lectures Yuri about making a spectacle of himself on social media and doesn’t shut up until Lilia says, “Be grateful that it was a flattering photograph.”

* * *

It’s very early the next morning, a few hours before Yuri has to get out of bed but around the time Otabek should be getting up in Almaty, that Yuri texts him, _‘What do you think of JJ?’_

It takes about fifteen minutes, but Otabek eventually texts back, _‘Why are you awake?’_

 _‘Can’t sleep,’_ Yuri says, curled up around Katenka’s dozing form. _‘Answer the question’_

_‘Why are you asking me?’_

_‘Because I think he’s a piece of shit but I value your opinion’_

_‘You didn’t think he was so bad when you were drunk’_

Yuri rolls his eyes and texts, _‘You’re an ass’_

 _‘This about the article still?_  
_Please tell me you’re not thinking of ways to spin it to your advantage somehow’_

_‘What the fuck would make you think I’d do that?’_

_‘Your teenage dream tag yesterday was suspicious’_

Yuri snorts but doesn’t feel the least bit insulted. _‘Yeah ok whatever’_

_‘So that’s a yes?’_

_‘What could I possibly gain from people thinking I want anything to do with JJ?’_

_‘Attention?’_ Otabek says.

_‘A gay love affair is not the kind of attention I want or need’_

_‘So you’re saying you wouldn’t consider letting people speculate if it got you more attention than Viktor?’_

That has Yuri scowling, because he doesn’t think he would ever do anything like that, but he also can’t completely deny that it might spark his interest.

He gets angry and confrontational, and he does stupid shit when it comes to Viktor. He does even stupider shit when it comes to getting what he wants. And he _does_ want attention. He wants to be acknowledged and recognized. He wants all of Viktor’s bullshit to finally come to an end. Viktor’s had his time in the limelight. He’s old news now. That he can still command an audience without even stepping onto the ice pisses Yuri off. The only positive aspect of Viktor’s return to competition is that Yuri will have the chance to utterly humiliate him when they finally skate against one another.

Maybe the scandal scared the shit out of Yuri at first. Maybe it still scares the shit out of him when he thinks of the outcry and the potential consequences. Maybe it pisses him off that people assume too much about his relationships. Maybe it disturbs the shit out of him that anyone would think he might have a thing for JJ.

But for one brief moment in time, his name and his face were everywhere online again, splashed across figure skating blogs and news sites for all to see, and even though it wasn’t for what he wanted to be known for at all, there’s still something sort of dangerously appealing about it.

Sort of like hopping onto the back of a stranger’s motorcycle. He knows there are so many reasons why he shouldn’t do it, but he’ll get something out of it in the end, and there’s always a chance it might not totally blow up in his face.

 _‘Just answer my question,’_ he says.

There’s a five minute pause in the conversation. Yuri assumes Otabek is either busy doing something to get ready for the day, or fighting with himself to determine whether or not he wants to cater to one of Yuri’s whims.

 _‘He’s alright,’_ Otabek finally responds.

Yuri waits again, but he doesn’t see the dots to indicate that Otabek is still typing, so he says, _‘Just alright?’_

_‘He’s difficult to describe with so few words’_

_‘Use more words then,’_ Yuri demands.

 _‘Ok_  
_Is he a bad person?_  
_No not at all_  
_Can he come off a little too strong sometimes?_  
_Absolutely_  
_He’s got this alpha male thing going on that can rub people the wrong way if he’s not careful_  
_Beneath that he sort of IS alpha male-ish_  
_But also sort of not depending on your definition of alpha male’_

Yuri rolls his eyes at that. He’s suspected as much, given what he’s already seen of JJ’s behavior, but having it confirmed by someone without an apparent bias makes him feel annoyed by JJ all over again.

 _‘How so?’_ he asks.

He waits patiently while Otabek fires off another rapid series of texts.

 _‘He’s not a total douchebag even if he seems arrogant_  
_He acts like he’s tough shit_  
_Sometimes he is tough shit_  
_But he’s not completely against letting people see him when he’s weak_  
_I think he just doesn’t want to burden people with it so sometimes he tries to keep it to himself_  
_He’s confident but still second guesses himself_  
_He’s super competitive but also a really good sport_  
_He’s got energy_  
_He’s physically imposing and knows how to play on that_  
_He’s dominant but not controlling’_  
  
Every other text earns another eye roll or snarl from Yuri. A lot of it annoys him, because JJ would continue to seem like such a pompous ass if there weren’t frequently a “but” involved.

Yuri’s not particularly surprised by the things Otabek is saying, yet none of it helps him determine whether or not he wants to keep trying to understand whatever it is JJ’s attempting to get out of their interactions. Yuri might have decided to give JJ a chance, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotten over his bias or that he has any intention of making it easy. There’s also a very good possibility that he’ll change his mind if something pisses him off enough.

Maybe that’s exactly what Yuri’s looking for, something to end this weird impasse and shift things between him and JJ back to the way they were before the night of the Final.

 _‘It’s more like he likes to be relied on and would rather handle shit himself_  
_Maybe because it makes him feel good about himself_  
_Maybe because he feels like he’s saving someone else the trouble_  
_I don’t really know_  
_I’ve never asked’_

 _‘You can read all that from him?’_ Yuri asks when there’s a brief lull in Otabek’s messages.

 _‘I told you I spent a few years in the US and Canada_  
_I was around him and Leo a lot’_

Yuri wonders if there might be more to it than simply being around them, but asking might take the conversation in another direction, so he saves it for later.

 _‘Right,’_ he says. _‘Ok’_

 _‘He likes to take care of people_  
_He’s protective_  
_Maybe overly so depending on the person_  
_He’s generally easy going but has no problem taking action when the situation calls for it_  
_He’s not afraid of risks_  
_He’s not terribly emotional under most circumstances but he’s also not against showing it_  
_He pretends like he doesn’t need people to like him but that’s total bullshit_  
_He likes being liked_  
_He wants to be friends with pretty much everyone’_

 _Not Viktor_ , Yuri thinks, and he feels a little thrill at that again.

 _‘He is absolutely not afraid of attention_  
_If anything I think he thrives on it_  
_So yeah sort of alpha male-ish in the ways that benefit him but not so much that it becomes a bad thing_  
_Most of the time at least_  
_Sometimes I think he might be in danger of unintentionally taking it a little too far_  
_Also the fact that he’s naturally talented makes it easy to overlook how hard he actually does work_  
_And his parents being his coaches always seemed like a double-edged sword to me_  
_They’ve helped him come into his own but they spend a lot of time working with him on the ice and I think they overcompensate and give him too much freedom off of it’_

 _‘What do you mean?’_ Yuri asks.

 _‘Sometimes it seems like he has too much independence_  
_He’s been known to get a little wild_  
_He parties a lot_  
_And I’m pretty sure he has experience with everything that entails_  
_Drinking since he was fifteen_  
_Not in excess but still probably more than he should_  
_He’s been sleeping around for just as long’_

Most of that doesn’t come across as particularly startling. The partying Yuri expected, given JJ’s social demeanor and the excess of photographs Liam Morrison has at his disposal. The drinking also isn’t a shock. Even if JJ didn’t drink at all during the after-party in Barcelona, he seemed way too comfortable with it to have only a passing familiarity. The sleeping around earns another eyeroll, but Yuri already figured there was plenty of that going on whether or not Liam Morrison presents an accurate depiction of JJ’s partners.

Then Otabek says, _‘I kind of suspect he’s done some drugs’_

That earns a completely different reaction.

 _‘WHAT?????’_ Yuri says.

It touches a nerve and elicits an immediate sense of disappointment, followed by quite a bit of anger and a mild sense of dread, the latter of which Yuri does his best to squash.

Of all the things JJ could get up to in his free time, any sort of drug use is certainly one of the most idiotic decisions he could ever make as an athlete. Alcohol is bad enough, but indulging in that every once in a while doesn’t seem nearly as perilous.

Yuri’s phone buzzes with a few more texts before he can spend too long thinking about it.

 _‘Pretty sure that was just once or twice though_  
_Probably peer pressure_  
_Maybe a little bit of curiosity_  
_He wants everyone to think he’s his own person but he still wants to fit in_  
_He always seemed way more interested in the sleeping around aspect honestly_  
_I guess he’s what you would call oversexed’_

There’s another brief pause in which Yuri tries to get himself back under control. He forces the thought of drugs out of his mind and focuses on the last bit, because that seems easier to handle.

 _‘What kind of oversexed are we talking about?’_ he asks.

 _‘What do you mean?’_ Otabek responds.

 _‘Ok well as someone who is surrounded by obnoxiously horny people all the time I’m stuck hearing about their sex lives_  
_Which means I also hear them rant when they’re pissed off at someone or jealous or whatever_  
_So I feel like when some people say someone’s oversexed they mean they’re kind of sleazy and act sort of creepily forward with their flirting_  
_Like Viktor_  
_Whereas other people might say someone’s oversexed but mean they’re just sort of confident and at ease with it and don’t have to try very hard to get people lining up_  
_Like Mila’_

 _‘Oh_  
_No he’s definitely more of a Mila_  
_Just really laid back about it_  
_Nothing wrong with it_  
_Just an observation_  
_All of this is observation and parts of it could be wrong_  
_It’s not like he tells me everything that goes on in his head’_

 _‘Right_  
_Got it_  
_Ok continue’_

 _‘That’s pretty much it_  
_Ultimately he’s a good guy with a good heart but he projects this pretentious image I still don’t entirely understand the point of_  
_Maybe he feels like he needs to_  
_Maybe he thinks it’s what people expect of him and he doesn’t want to let them down_  
_Maybe it’s the only way he knows how to put himself out there’_

That’s something Yuri can understand. He’s had enough pressure on him over the years that he’s grown intimately familiar with the ways in which one copes with it.

Again, Yuri is forced to consider that “King JJ” is probably just a gimmick — still a part of who JJ is, or maybe someone JJ would actually like to be, but certainly not the entire picture. Even a lot of what Otabek has observed might be more for show than a completely accurate representation of who JJ is. As much as Yuri would rather hate that, he gets it. He relates to it. Really, the only difference between the two of them in that regard is that Yuri has more masks at his disposal.

When a situation demands that he be beautiful and refined, when he needs to be vulnerable and emotive but doesn’t know how to express his feelings, he shows the world the Russian Fairy.

When he’s angry and frustrated, when he’s uncomfortable, when he’s confused, when he doesn’t understand what he thinks or feels, or when he doesn’t feel entirely safe, he shows the world the Russian Punk.

Yuri wouldn’t know what to do if he didn’t have that. Without some sort of an image to project, he thinks his skating might suffer. The rest of him is so lost beneath the tumult of emotions, he wouldn’t know how to let any of it out if he had to.

Still, he doesn’t pity JJ.

Pitying JJ means Yuri would have to pity himself, and pity is the last thing he wants from anyone.

So Yuri asks, _‘Why’d you turn him down when he offered to grab dinner?’_

 _‘Would you want to be the third wheel at dinner with JJ and Izzy so soon after they got engaged?_  
_Also he can be absolutely exhausting in large doses_  
_And I already had plans’_

Yuri wants to ask more. He wants to know about Isabella and the engagement in particular, because he doesn’t have any clue what could possibly be going on there. Nothing he comes up with makes much sense, because everything he’s witnessed before in regards to relationships is telling him that this situation isn’t normal. JJ and Isabella are still friendly with one another when they should be talking shit; they’re still close when they should be doing everything they can to get away from one another. They shared a room and a bed in Barcelona even after Yuri found JJ looking so worn down in the lobby.

What kind of person puts themselves through that sort of shit?

What is it about their relationship that makes still hanging onto a piece of it worth something?

Yuri has a text written. He almost sends it. His thumb hovers over the screen for a few moments. Having an answer would be a relief, because he could push it all out of his head and not waste time on it anymore.

But Otabek probably doesn’t know.

The only two people who do are JJ and Isabella, and Yuri isn’t in a position to ask them.

In the end, he deletes his text and sends, _‘What plans?’_ Then, _‘Stealing me away?’_

If Otabek noticed that there was a lapse in Yuri’s response, he doesn’t mention it.

 _‘Seemed like the best opportunity to talk without other people around_  
_You can’t even pretend I was wrong to do it_  
_Because as soon as we were in the same general area as the others we got dragged out with them’_

_‘You didn’t seem to mind so much’_

_‘I didn’t_  
_I can deal with other people even if it’s tiring_  
_But you barely interacted with anyone when you were ten_  
 _I’ve been keeping up with you since then so I know that hasn’t changed_  
_So if we were going to talk I figured the less people the better’_

It makes Yuri feel like shit sometimes, that Otabek knows so much about him just from watching him, while Yuri knows so little about Otabek in comparison. He remembers the summer camp they participated in together, but Otabek’s presence there doesn’t really stand out in his mind. Yuri didn’t even speak to him. Admittedly, Yuri didn’t really speak to anyone. After, he wouldn’t have thought to pay any attention to Otabek at all. Even when Otabek took bronze at the World Championships last season, he was just another nobody, just some random guy without much history who happened to put together two programs decent enough to come in third.

In hindsight, Yuri should have found that impressive. It means Otabek scored higher than JJ, who Yuri was already aware of long before they first faced one another this year at Skate Canada. JJ, who everyone expected to take gold at the Grand Prix Final this year. JJ, who could still take gold at the upcoming World Championships with ease. JJ, who always seems to be just on the cusp of matching and then exceeding Viktor’s legacy. Otabek stood on a podium with Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti at his first World Championships, _ahead_ of JJ Leroy, but Yuri was too caught up in his own shit to pay any attention.

Yuri knows he should try harder. He should learn more. He should start making an effort, because even if he isn’t quite sure how, even if real friendship is something he’s unfamiliar with, this matters to him, this new ability to pick up his phone when he’s lonely or confused and text someone who doesn’t make him feel anxious or defensive. He knows it’s necessary for him to learn if he has any intention of making this last. He already misses their free time in Barcelona, misses that quiet comfort, that easy companionship, that feeling of understanding and safety that always seemed to pass between them, and if that ever stopped, if something happened to fuck that up, Yuri doesn’t know how he’d go back to a life without it.

It happened so quickly, and it’s become such a desperate need for him now.

But Yuri can’t think of what to say. His thoughts are so convoluted. When he tries to focus on one thing long enough to figure it out, something else pops into his head to ruin any progress he might have made. He keeps going back and forth, from one thing to the next, and he doesn’t know how to make his brain shut up long enough for him to examine things the way he knows he should.

So he asks, _‘Am I that transparent?’_

Because focusing on himself is easier.

It’s the only thing he’s known for nearly six years now.

Otabek’s response is as prompt as most of his others have been.

 _‘About some things yeah,’_ he says. Then, ‘ _Got to head out’_

Yuri frowns sadly but tells him, _‘Ok’_

 _‘I can text again during breaks,’_ Otabek replies, and part of Yuri thinks he knows what Yuri’s feeling and is trying to reassure him.

 _‘Work hard,’_ Yuri says.

_‘Always’_

_‘I’ll be pissed if I don’t see you at worlds’_

_‘You will_  
_No point in being coy and pretending otherwise’_

There’s that promise. In his head, Yuri chants “three months, three months, three months” again. He lets himself think about what it might be like when they next see one another.

He thinks he might tell his anxiousness to go fuck itself and initiate that hug he should have claimed before they parted ways.

For now, Yuri sends Otabek a thumbs up emoji.

Otabek sends one back.

* * *

Between competitions, Yuri’s days are routine. He’s grown to like that, because it means he rarely has to wrack his brains for something to do.

He wakes up earlier than he used to because living with Lilia means he’s further from the training complex, so he’s out of bed by 4:30 in the morning. He stumbles groggily down the stairs to swallow down a bunch of vitamins Lilia makes him take, then eats a light breakfast with the sluggishness that always seems to plague those not too fond of mornings. He has just enough time after that to brush his teeth, wash his face, make his hair look halfway decent, pull on some clothes, and grab his things before Yakov and Lilia are ushering him out the door.

He’s at the rink by 6:00 AM, but he spends an hour warming up off the ice with Lilia. He alternates between off-ice training and on-ice training for the rest of the day, with a break for studying, another break for lunch, and two smaller breaks for mid-morning and mid-afternoon snacks. He finishes most days with a ballet lesson with Lilia that can last up to an hour and a half. The shower Yuri takes after is short, just long enough to thoroughly wash his hair and rinse off the sweat, before Yakov and Lilia are ushering him away again.

Most days, they don’t get home until after 6:00 PM. They eat dinner quickly, usually something prepared in advance on the days they have off. Afterwards, Yuri will often spend some time soaking in the tub before Lilia plies him with chamomile tea and his last light snack of the day. The latest she will allow him to stay up on a normal night is 9:00 PM, and that’s usually only if something’s come up that requires his attention.

This is what he has come to expect from life.

This is likely how his days will pass for many years to come.

But on his first day back to training after the Grand Prix Final, just after Yuri’s dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs to the kitchen, his phone vibrates with two text messages.

 _‘The first time ever I saw your face_  
_I thought the sun rose in your eyes’_

Yuri chokes on the vitamins he’s in the process of swallowing and spends a little time gagging over the sink as he recovers.

 _‘WHAT THE FUCK SHITHEAD??????????’_ he texts back as soon as his airways are clear and he has himself under control.

Lilia shakes her head like she’s already been exasperated by him enough for the day, which has to be a new record.

 _‘Haha just got to remind you you’re beautiful before bed,’_ JJ says, as if it wasn’t already obvious what he meant.

 _‘IT HAS BARELY BEEN TWELVE HOURS SINCE THE LAST TIME,’_ Yuri tells him.

 _‘Yeah but I figured I should do it when it’s morning for you_  
_So you wake up to it_  
_Thought I’d start getting in the habit now’_

 _‘WHAT THE FUCK??????_  
_WHAT IS THIS???????_  
_WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS????????’_

 _‘I told you already_  
_Someone has to’_

JJ sends a fucking emoji with a wink.

Yuri almost tosses his phone into the garbage.

 _‘WHAT THE FUCK???????_  
_NO ONE HAS TO_  
_FUCK_  
_IT’S SO FUCKING WEIRD_  
_SGMJKWLSAGNJKEAIUFaondbuhiuehfiahs’_

_‘Hahahahahaha’_

_‘FUCK OFF’_

_‘There’s part of another song I’m sitting on_  
_It’s so fucking perfect I’m sad I didn’t use it in Barcelona_  
_There was a perfect moment for it up in Chris’s room and everything_  
_Got to wait until I see you again because_  
_I need to see the look in your eyes when I sing it to you’_

_‘DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH????????’_

_‘Awwwww but you got all quiet and cute when I told you on the phone’_

Yuri’s face grows hot. He’d been hoping JJ hadn’t noticed. Finding out otherwise makes his stomach drop low.

 _‘FUCK YOU_  
_FUCKING_  
_FUCK FUCK_  
_YOU FUCKER’_

 _‘That was beautiful babe_  
_You have such a way with words’_

“Yuri!” Lilia barks and snaps her fingers at him. “Breakfast!”

Yuri refuses to look at his phone as he shovels down food. It doesn’t vibrate again, but he knows he’ll want to throw more curses at JJ if he looks at it, so he leaves it face down on the table and eats in silence. When they leave for the rink, he shoves his phone so far down into his bag that he’s unable to find it again until he has time to pull everything out when he breaks for lunch.

It’s then that he texts Otabek, _‘Why would JJ insist on telling me a bunch of weird shit??????’_

Yuri doesn’t get a response until lunch is almost over.

_‘What kind of weird shit are we talking about?’_

_‘Compliments,’_ is all Yuri can think to say, because repeating any of it or sending screenshots of the conversations would just make things even weirder.

_‘JJ doesn’t really hold back when he has something nice to say I guess’_

_‘Has he ever said weird shit to you??????????’_

_‘Once when he was drunk he told me I look like I’d be a really intense kisser’_

_‘WHAT THE FUCK???????’_

_‘I turned him down when he asked if he could find out,’_ Otabek says.

Yuri bangs his head against the table before his brain can supply him with any horrific images. A few people look his way, but no one approaches him. They’ve all learned to leave him alone by this point.

Except Mila.

He’s grateful she is currently nowhere to be seen.

Yuri keeps his forehead on the edge of the table and looks down at his phone in his lap.

 _‘WHAT THE FUCK?????????’_ he texts again, because that’s the only thing going through his head.

_‘Yeah I don’t even know’_

“YURI!”

It’s Yakov shouting for him this time. Yuri sends Otabek a quick “have to go” before hastily putting his things away.

He’s frustrated and on edge for the rest of the day, and he grows sloppy because of it. Yakov shouts something about him making a fool of himself at Nationals before sending Yuri off to his ballet lesson with Lilia thirty minutes earlier than usual. Yuri spends most of the lesson letting Lilia direct him, but she keeps tutting at him and snapping her fingers until he ends up angry and discouraged. He screams something he doesn’t remember later: “I’m trying!” or “Stop bitching at me!” or “Okay, I get it!” but most definitely _not_ the “Fuck you!” he sometimes thinks but would _never_ , not in a milion years, no matter how pissed off he is, _ever_ say to her face.

She gives him another lecture about his attitude. Yuri zones out in the middle of it. When she leaves him on his own to give him the chance to think about his behavior, Yuri throws himself into a furious series of fouettés until he’s too fucking tired to stay on his feet.

He complains to Otabek on the way home. At the table, dinner passes in silence that night. Yuri escapes to his room and sits in a hot bath immediately after.

Twenty minutes into it, _just_ when he’s starting to feel a little more relaxed, Yuri’s phone vibrates on the wooden tray hanging across the tub.

_‘Hey little bit’_

Yuri makes some vaguely threatening noises in his throat.

 _‘What do you want now????????’_ he texts back.

_‘What are your sizes?’_

Yuri’s pretty sure he knows what JJ’s asking. He can’t imagine what else JJ could possibly mean, but for the sake of being difficult, he asks, _‘What?’_

_‘Like your measurements’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘I need them_  
_All of them’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘Because’_

There’s no follow-up text even when Yuri waits five minutes, so he says, _‘Again why?’_

_‘It’s a surprise’_

_‘I don’t want any of your JJ style shit’_

He’s sure that’s what this is about. It can’t possibly be about anything else. JJ wouldn’t have any reason to ask unless he got some stupid idea in his head. Yuri’s brain conjures up a terrifying image of vibrant red clothing covered in Js and maple leaves. He sticks his tongue out and makes some disgusted noises even if there’s no one around to witness the display.

 _‘What if I promise there will be no Js on it anywhere?’_ JJ says.  _‘Except for probably the tag but no one will see that anyway’_

 _‘Fuck off,’_ Yuri tells him.

_‘Please?’_

_‘Fuck off’_

_‘Pretty please?’_

_‘I said fuck off’_

_‘Yeah but I know you don’t mean it_  
_Otherwise you’d just ignore me’_

Yuri considers ignoring him now, but he’s pretty sure JJ would continue to inundate his phone with texts if he did that.

Or call him again. That seems just as likely.

So Yuri says, _‘I hate you’_

_‘I really think we’re at grudging respect now babe’_

_‘Passionate passionate hatred’_

_‘Mild dislike at most_  
_You have twenty four hours before I just use Guang Hong’s measurements_  
_I feel like you guys are pretty much the same size anyway’_

Yuri wouldn’t know. He doesn’t care. He only pays attention to Guang Hong when he needs to go through Guang Hong’s social media.

 _‘Fuck off,’_ Yuri says.

Then he drops his phone to the floor over the side of the tub. The sound it makes when it clatters against the tile is a bit concerning, but when he peeks over the edge of the tub to make sure he didn’t break it, he sees that it landed with the screen up and there aren’t any cracks present. It doesn’t vibrate again, which isn’t as much of a relief as it should be.

Yuri ducks under the water for a while. Long enough that his lungs begin to ache. Long enough that he wonders how much time it would take to drown himself. He doesn’t break through the surface again until he can’t hold it anymore and actually breathes in a little water. He coughs it up quickly enough and pushes his wet hair out of his face, leaning back with his eyes shut to gulp at the air.

The water’s gone cold and his skin looks a bit wrinkled when pulls the drain and climbs out of the tub. Yuri dries off and pulls his clothes on, smears moisturizer onto his face, and grabs his phone and hairbrush on his way out.

Lilia’s waiting for him on the couch downstairs. She has Katenka in her lap, a book in her hand, and a cup of tea on the side table next to her. She eyes Yuri when she hears the sound of the brush being tugged through his hair. She doesn’t have to make a sound this time, just raises her brow at him as she sets her book aside, and waits for him to take a seat beside her so she can work the knots out with far more patience than he has.

There’s a bowl of fruit on the coffee table for him, with a cup of the usual camomile tea. Beside it is a small serving of chocolate. Yuri has no idea where it came from, but he thinks it’s Lilia’s way of saying, “I understand that you’re stressed and I’m only hard on you because I care. Here, have a treat.”

It seems so inane that something as simple as chocolate actually makes him feel a little better.

He eats that first once Lilia’s done with his hair, just in case she changes her mind.

“Do you still have the measurements for my costumes written down?” he asks.

She’s gone back to her book and sounds uninterested when she says, “Yes.”

“Where are they?”

“Why?”

“I need them.”

“Why do you need them?”

“I just do,” he says.

She sighs at him. Yuri can’t see her because he has his back to her as he sits on the floor in front of the coffee table, but he hears her shut her book again. Katenka meows discontentedly when Lilia removes her from her lap. Yuri feels Katenka’s head brush against his thigh. Her tail twitches against his arm when Lilia leaves the room.

Lilia returns a few minutes later with a sheet of paper. She holds it away from him when he reaches for it.

“Why do you need them?” she asks again.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Someone asked for them.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter?”

She doesn’t answer, just stares at him levelly.

Yuri scowls at her. “JJ asked for them,” he mutters.

Something in her face changes. It’s so subtle, Yuri can’t really tell what it is. The end result doesn’t look much different than her usual impassive expression. Maybe her eyes tighten a bit. Maybe her frown deepens ever so slightly. Maybe her brow raises minutely. The only thing Yuri knows for sure is that the silence between them suddenly feels weighty.

She’s not an idiot. Far from it. Yuri knows that — even when he bitches and moans about her in his head. It took less than an hour of being in her company for him to realize that Lilia is probably one of the most observant and intelligent people he’s ever met. She doesn’t even have to say anything. He can see it in her eyes — in the intent way she looks at people, and in the careful way she takes in her surroundings. He can see it in her rigid posture, and in the precise way that she moves. It’s more than the results of her ballet training, which he knows was more intense than any of his lessons with her will ever be. Life has made her wise. No one who’s found the sort of renown she has could get there on carelessness and ignorance.

Lilia is not a figure skater, but she was married to Yakov long enough that she knows the world. Through Yuri, she knows the current crowd. He expects she’s done even more research on his competition than Yakov has; she probably knows more about JJ than Yuri’s bothered to learn over the last two months. No doubt she’s come to the exact same conclusion Yuri has, that JJ has some stupid idea in his head Yuri would be better off taking no part in. Yuri doesn’t expect JJ’s the sort of person Lilia would ever approve of.

But she hands Yuri the paper.

The exchange is slow. Lilia stares into his eyes as Yuri moves to take it from her. He can’t figure out what she’s looking for. Something to answer whatever question she has in her head, most likely. She doesn’t voice it, just stares in silence like she can see it in him on her own. It makes Yuri uncomfortable, and he hesitates until Lilia places the piece of paper in his hand.

Then she sits down and picks up her book again.

Yuri turns back to his tea and his snack. He pets Katenka absentmindedly, but she soon grows dissatisfied by his lack of attention and hops back up onto the couch with Lilia. Yuri finishes up as fast as he can, itching to get away. He types his measurements into a note on his phone, translating what he has to into English. When he’s done, he leaves the paper on the side table and takes his empty bowl and mug into the kitchen.

Lilia calls out to him as he’s going up the stairs.

“Good night, Yuri.”

Her voice isn’t cold, or suspicious, or disappointed. There’s no anger or frustration there. It isn’t exactly warm, but he’s used to that from her. What affection he gets is simple and brief — soft when it occurs, but never extensive.

This isn’t any different, yet it feels, somehow, like there’s more behind it, like there are other things she’s chosen not to say.

“‘Night,” he responds, as casually as he can.

Yuri goes up the stairs two at a time. He doesn’t return to his phone again until he’s in his room with the door closed. He sits on his bed with the lamp on and copies the notes he made into a text to JJ.

He feels odd once he’s sent it. His chest seems sort of tight, and Yuri has to take a couple of deep breaths to loosen it. Even then, he feels uneasy. He fidgets while he waits, turning his phone over in his hands, then dropping it onto the bed to play with the strings of his hoodie instead. When that proves to be of no help, Yuri brings one of his hands to his mouth to bite at his thumbnail.

His phone vibrating doesn’t exactly startle him, but he feels a little clumsy when he grabs for it again.

 _‘Holy shit you’re tiny,’_ JJ says.

Annoyance returns, but it’s not quite as strong as before.

 _‘You knew that already,’_ Yuri texts back.

 _‘Yeah but seeing the numbers is kinda jarring_  
_I was wrong_  
_Guang Hong’s shorter but you’re definitely skinnier_  
_Fuck your waist is so fucking small’_

Yuri doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he says the first thing that crosses his mind. _‘Yeah it pisses Mila off’_

_‘Izzy’s kinda pissed too’_

Yuri assumes that means Isabella’s around. He hates that he’s curious, that he automatically wonders what they’re doing together; he hates that their bullshit has a place in his brain to begin with. Still, Yuri pulls the world clock up on his phone to figure out what time it is for JJ, only to realize he has no idea where in Canada JJ actually lives.

Another text pops up.

_‘You think I could fit my hands around it?’_

Yuri snorts and rolls his eyes. _‘Fuck you shitheat it’s not THAT small’_

 _‘I bet it is_  
_Or close to it_  
_Omg that would be so fucking cute_  
_I’m going to try_  
_Why didn’t I try in Barcelona?_  
_I missed so many great opportunities when we danced_  
_I could lift you with one arm’_  
  
_‘No you couldn’t,’_ Yuri says.

 _‘Yes I could_  
_No joke I bet I could do it easy_  
_I’m going to do it at worlds_  
_Lift you with one arm and Guang Hong with the other_  
_Can I?_  
_Tell me I can’_  
  
_‘You’re so fucking weird’_

_‘That’s not a no’_

It’s not a “no.” It _should_ be a “no.” Yuri has it typed out. He’s ready to send it, has his thumb over the button and everything. He doesn’t know what stops him, because the mental image is irritating. Everything about JJ is irritating. His attitude, his voice, his face, his obnoxious sense of humor, his ability to get under Yuri’s skin. If anyone else pulled any of JJ’s shit, Yuri would have already blocked their number.

For some reason, that thought hasn’t even crossed his mind. Even when JJ pisses him off, the most Yuri considers doing is ignoring him.

Yuri deletes the “no.”

It’s not as if he can’t say it later.

 _‘Going to bed,’_ he says instead.

 _‘Dream a little dream of me~,’_ JJ responds. He adds another winking emoji seconds after.

Yuri scowls and sends him one final, _‘Fuck off’_

He plugs his phone in and leaves it on his bedside table. He goes into the bathroom and brushes his teeth. He turns out the lights when he’s done, then climbs into bed and lays there staring at the far wall.

He dozes off and on, but the amount of sleep Yuri gets that night is no more restful than before.

* * *

Yuri’s out of bed thirty minutes early the next morning, too agitated to lie there any longer. For once, he’s downstairs before Lilia or Yakov.

He spends a little time rummaging around in the kitchen but doesn’t find anything of interest. For breakfast, Yuri puts together more yogurt, granola, and berries, because he likes it better than the healthy cereals Lilia keeps around for him. He eats it in the sitting area since he’s alone. Katenka wanders over when he’s halfway done. Yuri flicks a toy at her to play while he waits.

Lilia comes down first. She stops in the sitting area to stare at him, but she doesn’t look too surprised to see him there. She’s already dressed for the day, in a skirt and blouse that hug her lean frame, and heels that probably cost more than Yuri’s little laptop. Her cheeks are rosy. Her lips are stained with color. Her hair is pulled back into the same severe bun she always wears. Yuri’s never seen her in her pajamas, or without makeup on her face, or with her hair in any other style. She doesn’t remove any of it until she shuts herself away for bed, and she doesn’t leave her room in the morning until she’s dressed for the day.

She doesn’t say anything to him, but she takes his empty bowl and spoon with her into the kitchen. When she returns, she hands him his vitamins with a stern look.

Yuri rolls his eyes but doesn’t ask how she knows he didn’t take them yet.

He’s just finished washing them down with water when his phone vibrates.

 _‘You_  
_Are_  
_So_  
_Beautiful_  
_To me’_

Yuri’s anger and frustration are muted this morning. He still feels it, but it’s drowned out beneath the restlessness. He expected the text, so it doesn’t startle him this time. Mostly he feels confused and tired, because he still doesn’t get why JJ’s doing this. It’s exhausting to keep thinking about it.

Everything about the situations seems to suggest that JJ’s simply being nice. Yuri can deal with that. Just because he hates people doesn’t mean he’s never met a single nice human being. Georgi is nice; the only thing annoying about him is the way he complains about his love life. Mila’s nice, too, when she’s not teasing Yuri or being a pain in the ass. Yuuri’s nice, which is the thing that makes it so hard to dislike him. Yuuri’s entire family is nice. Yuuko is nice. Her triplets might be evil, but her husband’s not. _Viktor’s_ nice. Even when Viktor’s not, he still makes himself sound like he is.

It’s different with JJ. He makes Yuri suspicious, like JJ has some kind of ulterior motive. He sounded genuine over the phone, so Yuri can believe that JJ _means_ these things, but Yuri doesn’t understand the _point_. He doesn’t know what JJ _wants_ from him, what JJ hopes to _gain_.

When JJ teased him before, Yuri assumed JJ was trying to get into his head. It worked, even if that might not have been JJ’s intention at all.

JJ’s still in his head, but in a totally different way. The anger Yuri feels isn’t motivating him like it did before. It’s draining, like it was with Yuuri Katsuki after a while. Part of Yuri feels like he should give it up, like it isn’t worth it. Another part of him feels spiteful and clings to it, because he doesn’t understand why this is happening, why it has to be JJ who says these things to him.

Yuri doesn’t send a text back. He gets up to go through the motions of preparing for his day. He shoves his phone into the depths of his bag again. When they arrive at the rink, Yuri gets to work without Yakov or Lilia having to shout at him. During his morning break, he eats his snack and stands around with Mila, letting her rant at him about the whiney text her hockey player ex-boyfriend sent her. When Yakov sends him off to get a little studying done, Yuri does more math problems so his mind doesn’t wander off. He pretends he’s at a bad stopping point when he’s reminded to have lunch and ends up eating a little over thirty minutes late.

But Otabek responded toward the end of lunch yesterday, so Yuri tries again around the same time today.

 _‘Does JJ have a habit of bombarding people with song lyrics?’_ he texts after digging his phone out of his bag.

He’s in luck. Otabek texts back a few minutes later.

_‘Everyone gets at least one JJ serenade’_

_‘Has he ever done it to you?’_

_‘Plenty of times’_

Again, Yuri wonders exactly how well acquainted Otabek and JJ are with one another. If Otabek didn’t immediately launch into a story, Yuri might have asked this time.

 _‘But the worst was after worlds last year_  
_That was when the hero of Kazakhstan thing started_  
_There were articles everywhere the next day_  
_So everyone’s talking about it while the exhibition and the banquet are going on_  
_Every time I’m anywhere near JJ that day he goes_  
_Doo-doo-doo-dooooooo doo-doo-doo-doooooo doo-doo-doo-dooooo_  
_And then_  
_Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!_  
_And I recognize it because I’d heard it before in a movie_  
_But it doesn’t click in my head what it is because there’s other shit going on_  
_So I ignore him because I figure he’s just singing random shit to himself’_

Yuri wishes it were that easy, wishes he could ignore JJ, wishes he could get all of this shit out of his head and go back to the way things were before that night in the hotel lobby.

 _‘So the banquet rolls around and I’m doing my thing_  
_You know talking to people and networking and shit_  
_Real dignified and formal_  
_And all of a sudden I hear JJ singing again_  
_And I’m not paying any attention to what it is because that’s just what he does_  
_So I generally tune it out when I have other shit going on_  
_But I can tell he’s pretty close behind me so I look over my shoulder_  
_You know just to see who his victim is_  
_And he’s there a little ways off and he’s just rocking out_  
_And it doesn’t seem like he’s doing it to anyone in particular_  
_But people are looking at me_  
_And I’m pissed because what the fuck_  
_And then he looks me fucking dead in the eye and he belts it out:’_

It’s so easy to imagine. Yuri can practically see the big, dumb fucking grin JJ must have had on his face. It shouldn’t entertain him because he _hates_ that fucking grin, wants to _keep_ hating it because it’s the most obnoxious grin he’s ever seen, but he can feel something bubbling up in his chest, something that feels like amusement, and he tells himself it’s only because he would have liked to see Otabek looking so furious.

The corner of Yuri’s mouth twitches up so subtly it goes unnoticed by those around him.

Otabek’s next several texts are sent in English instead of Russian.

 _‘I need a hero_  
_I’m holding out for a hero til the end of the night_  
_He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight_  
_I need a hero_  
_I’m holding out for a hero til the morning light_  
_He’s gotta be sure and he’s gotta be soon and he’s gotta be larger than life’_

Yuri snorts audibly. A few people glance over at him, including Mila and one of the other ladies’ skaters Mila usually hangs around, but Yuri ignores them.

Otabek switches back to Russian when he concludes, ‘ _And I have never wanted to punch him in the face as much as I did in that moment’_

Yuri doesn’t immediately recognize the lyrics. He pulls up a web search to find the song, then digs into his bag for his earbuds. When he plays it, Yuri finds that it’s familiar in the way songs are when he might have heard them once or twice a long time ago without growing particularly attached to them. He can’t remember when it was he came across it, or why he might have listened, but when he pauses it he keeps it up on his phone for later.

“Yuri, what are you doing?” Mila asks him.

“Nothing,” Yuri says, too busy texting back to glance over at her.

 _‘I would have punched him_  
_Probably broken his fucking nose_  
_There would have been blood everywhere_  
_But also_  
_I’m going to be honest_  
_That’s fucking hilarious’_

 _‘What’s he been singing to you?’_ Otabek asks.

Yuri stops himself before he can respond right away. He hasn’t looked them up to confirm anything yet, but he suspects from JJ’s “the rest doesn’t really fit our situation” comment that JJ has been sending him snippets of love songs. Yuri isn’t sure if he knows the first one or not, but the second one comes across as familiar, and the way JJ sent the third one this morning seemed purposeful, maybe like he was trying to figure out if Yuri knew it.

Even though Yuri knows JJ doesn’t mean the songs as they’re intended, he feels too awkward admitting them to Otabek.

 _‘Tiny dancer,’_ he says, because he thinks that one’s less suggestive, and if he wants to be technical about it, that _was_ the first one JJ sang to him anyway.

 _‘That’s not too terrible I guess,’_ Otabek says. _‘Still obnoxious though’_

_‘I feel like being obnoxious is JJ’s entire life’s purpose’_

_‘Yeah well there are worse things he could do’_

“YURI!”

It’s Yakov again.

Yuri rolls his eyes and swears under his breath. He didn’t even manage to eat all of his lunch. Shoving the last of it into his face, Yuri texts a quick “got to go” before scrambling to put his things away. He rushes out before Yakov has an excuse to keep shouting at him.

The rest of the day passes better than yesterday. It’s still hard to focus sometimes, but the fact that he hasn’t been giving Yakov much attitude means Yakov’s not in such a pissy mood, so his failures are less frustrating than they would be if Yakov were shouting at him. When Yuri’s sent off with Lilia at the usual time, the ballet lesson that follows is actually somewhat relaxing. Lilia doesn’t seem displeased with him today. Her voice lacks a bit of it’s usual chill, and her guiding hands aren’t as harsh even if they push him just as hard.

Yuri knows he should be tired. It’s been days since the last time he got any decent sleep, but he feels wide awake and full of energy even after a twelve hour day. He’s fidgety at dinner, like he can’t keep still. He’s only able to settle down when he’s in the bath.

He’s not exactly expecting it, but Yuri has a feeling it’s going to happen, so he’s not surprised when JJ texts him again.

 _‘Hey little bit_  
_What’s your favorite color?’_

 _‘Why?’_ Yuri texts back.

_‘Just curious’_

Yuri bites at the inside of his cheek as he considers his response. He eventually decides to be facetious and says, _‘Leopard print’_

 _‘Haha,’_ JJ responds. It’s hard to tell, but Yuri thinks it might be sarcasm. _‘That’s a pattern not a color’_

So Yuri says, _‘Black’_

JJ sends him an upside down smiley face. _‘I feel like that’s too obvious and I shouldn’t have asked but ok we’ll go with that’_

 _‘Fine_  
_It’s purple_  
_And yellow_  
_And magenta’_

_‘Wait really?’_

_‘Yes_  
_Also blue is ok but it’s kind of basic_  
_And red used to be fine but you wear too much red so now it just pisses me off’_

 _‘That’s so kick ass_  
_I inspire you’_

Yuri snorts. He stops biting his cheek to scrape his teeth over his bottom lip instead.

 _‘What part of you piss me off would give you that idea?’_ he asks.

 _‘Anger and annoyance are still inspirational_  
_Admit it_  
_I motivate you to do your best’_

Yuri will not admit it, even if there might be a small amount of truth to it. He has no intention of giving JJ the satisfaction.

 _‘Fuck you_  
_You do not’_

 _‘I do_  
_I feed you compliments_  
_I tell you how gorgeous you are_  
_And I make you want to crush me on the ice_  
_Isn’t that beautiful????’_

 _‘Why are you so fucking weird?????’_ Yuri says.

A response comes in the form of a picture — JJ with that stupid fucking grin on his face, and his fingers curved into his signature Js.

 _‘I will stop talking to you,’_ Yuri threatens.

 _‘I don’t believe that for a second_  
_You enjoy swearing at me too much’_

_‘Fuck off’_

_‘There see?’_

_‘Leave me alone_  
_I’m going to bed’_

 _‘Sleep pretty darling_  
_Do not cry_  
_And I will sing a lullaby’_

Yuri thinks about sending JJ a picture of his middle finger, but ultimately decides against it.

He isn’t content. He doesn’t feel as sullen as he did before, but he’s not completely at ease with the situation either. Yuri is sure he won’t be able to truly relax for a while, not with this and everything else going on, but he doesn’t feel like drowning himself this time. That seems like enough of an improvement for now.

Lilia’s waiting for him downstairs when Yuri’s done with his bath. She brushes his hair again, and Yuri eats a snack when she’s done. They don’t talk to one another, but there’s a marked decrease in the amount of tension between them. It’s quiet and peaceful. Yuri thinks he could actually grow to like it.

When he goes up to bed, he feels confident that he’s calm enough to get some sleep.

* * *

In the end, it’s takes a full hour for Yuri to drift off.

He’s awake three hours later.

There isn’t anything in particular that rouses him. He simply drifts back into consciousness on his own and rolls over to check the time on his phone. It’s just after midnight. Yuri is surprised by this, because he feels alert and energized when he should be feeling drained. He tries to go back to sleep and manages a light doze for a while before waking again. When he checks the time on this occasion, he’s a little annoyed to see that only thirty minutes have passed.

Logically, Yuri knows he should be at least somewhat concerned by this. He works his body hard six days a week. He needs sleep to recover. He should be exhausted at the end of the day. He shouldn’t be waking up in the middle of the night ready to start the day as if he’s slept a full eight hours.

But he doesn’t _feel_ like it’s a detriment yet. He doesn’t feel like he has the need for the extra time even though he knows he should, and he has a high enough opinion of himself and what he can handle that he doesn't realize that there might be something wrong about that.

He spends another hour lying in the dark anyway, before he eventually gives up.

Yuri leaves his bed long enough to use the bathroom and let Katenka in when he hears her in the hall outside the door. Then he climbs back into bed with her and drags his laptop up next to him. He puts his headphones on and listens to music, but he’s bored with everything he usually listens to, so he finally looks up the songs JJ’s been spouting off. The only one that isn’t totally disgusting is the one JJ sang to Otabek. Imagining that moment still makes Yuri feel faintly amused. He downloads the song just in case Otabek ever gives him a reason to use it against him.

Then, when the rest of his usual distractions seem tedious, Yuri pulls up JJ’s social media and spends some time delving into it for the first time since he originally searched for it a couple of days ago.

JJ’s Twitter profile reads, “Figure skater. Olympian. 3x Canadian Champion. King of Canada. Confirmed beefcake. As you see, I’ve got biceps to spare.” His profile picture is surprisingly understated, just a shot of him sporting a restrained smile, wearing his Canadian team jacket, in front of a neutral background. Yuri assumes it’s JJ’s official portrait for Skate Canada and wonders who talked him into using it instead of one of the many pictures he must have of his own shit eating grin. JJ’s header photo is a shot of him on the ice in his free skate costume. There’s something sort of serious and intense about his expression that Yuri finds more engaging than JJ’s usual disposition.

If JJ looked like that more often, and behaved as that expression implies he’s capable of behaving, Yuri might be less inclined to reject him.

JJ’s most recent tweet is a video, posted twenty-two hours ago, with the comment, “Been feeling this song a lot recently.”

Out of curiosity, Yuri presses play. It’s JJ with a fucking guitar, because of course he can skate, ballroom dance, _and_ play the fucking guitar. Yuri can’t tell where JJ is because the room’s bland and lacks any identifiable features. JJ’s fingers move over the strings with confidence. The song sounds familiar, like something Yuri’s heard before but never paid a lot of attention to. It’s there in the very back of his mind; he could hum the melody, but he doesn’t remember very many of the words until he hears JJ singing them.

_“I took my love, and I took it down… I climbed a mountain and I turned around… And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills… ‘Til the landslide brought me down…”_

Yuri studies JJ’s face and decides it’s only slightly less aggravating than usual. Soft and somber like this, JJ’s existence is bearable, but his appearance still manages to piss Yuri off. Yuri can recognize traditionally handsome characteristics even if they don’t have any sort of appeal to him. It’s frustrating that JJ has those characteristics —  the strong jaw, the firm chin, the straight nose, the heavy brows. JJ’s already talented and successful; it seems totally unfair that he should be attractive too.

The longer Yuri watches, the more annoyed he becomes. He ends up closing his eyes to pretend that he’s listening to a disembodied voice instead. Even that doesn’t help, because without JJ’s face to focus on, Yuri has to admit that JJ has a decent voice. More than decent. Yuri could easily grow to like it if JJ wasn’t already so infuriating. JJ’s voice is rich and low. The song doesn’t require an impressive vocal range, yet Yuri can tell there’s power behind JJ’s subdued tone.

_“Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’, cause I’ve built my life around you…”_

It’s about Isabella.

Yuri doesn’t need confirmation. He _knows_. Everything about JJ’s rendition of the song screams “I’ve just broken up with the person my whole world should revolve around.” It’s melancholy, but at the same time there’s something subtly optimistic about it too.

Like them parting is for the best even if it sucks.

Like there’s hope somewhere that they’ll come out better on the other side, whether or not they’re still together in the end.

The song is not a goodbye. It doesn’t mean forever. It’s apologetic, but not in a particularly guilt-ridden way. It does not cast blame, it only seeks to articulate a feeling. There’s an implication of a certain level of understanding, that the two of them came to this point together. There was no fight, no dramatic shift in their feelings for one another. They simply decided to let it end.

It’s the stupidest fucking thing Yuri’s ever heard. He cannot comprehend how anyone bearing those sorts of feelings for another person would just let that person _go_. The thought makes Yuri livid. It seems like a betrayal, and even if he isn’t the one who’s been betrayed, it still cuts deep, because he knows what it feels like, only Yuri had no control over the fact that he was abandoned.

And Yuri thinks, _Fuck it._ Fuck it not being any of his business.

Yuri stops the video and looks beneath JJ’s profile picture to find his location listed as “Toronto, Ontario.” After grabbing his phone, Yuri checks the world clock for the time.

Toronto, 6:58 PM.

 _‘Tell me what happened with your girlfriend,’_ Yuri texts.

Thankfully, JJ’s response is prompt. It arrives less than ten minutes later.

_‘What are you doing up?’_

Yuri frowns darkly. He’s too pissed to even roll his eyes. _‘What the fuck do you think I’m doing?’_

_‘Thinking of me?’_

The question is followed by another winking emoji.

Yuri grits his teeth.

 _‘No_  
_Fuck you_  
_Tell me what the fuck happened with your girlfriend’_

 _‘Lol fuck no_  
_I’m still figuring shit out’_

 _‘Is it permanent?’_ Yuri asks.

He assumes it is. No matter how many times JJ throws around the “taking a break” terminology, Yuri doesn’t see why they would bother splitting up at all if they were just going to get back together at a later date. It seems totally unnecessary. Yuri loathes the dishonesty, this game of make believe JJ’s weaving when he should just admit that he and Isabella are both idiots who have no clue what they’re doing.

 _‘What?’_ JJ says.

That makes Yuri even angrier, because there’s no way JJ doesn’t know what he’s referring you. _‘Your break,’_ Yuri explains anyway.

 _‘Don’t know_  
_Maybe_  
_Depends on how things go I guess’_

_‘What things?’_

_‘Adult things’_

Yuri’s fingers squeeze around his phone in frustration. He almost drops it and puts a stop to this entire conversation before he’s even able to get what he wants out of it, but he’s stubborn enough on his good days. Anger can make him even more relentless.

 _‘Fuck off you’re barely an adult,’_ he says.

 _‘More adult than you,’_ JJ replies.

_‘That doesn’t mean you’re not a fucking dumbass’_

_‘I never said I wasn’t’_

_‘So you just broke up after being engaged for two weeks?’_

_‘Yes that is exactly what happened’_

_‘And you’re not going to tell anyone why?’_

_‘Oh_  
_No_  
_We’ve told people_  
_Just_  
_Not you’_

If Yuri were more of a reasonable human being, he would see the logic in that. JJ has just as many reasons to distrust him as Yuri has to distrust JJ. Before this week, they barely spoke to one another, and when they did their interactions were full of teasing on JJ’s part and animosity on Yuri’s. Even now, that hasn’t really changed. There might be a certain understanding between them after their last day or two in Barcelona, but their relationship is barely any different than it was prior to the Grand Prix Final. Whatever issues JJ’s dealing with have absolutely nothing to do with Yuri. If their roles were reversed, Yuri wouldn’t be any more inclined to tell JJ anything.

But Yuri has not always been the most rational individual. JJ’s flippant attitude and his utter refusal to talk about it make Yuri’s anger flare stronger.

 _‘Fuck you,’_ Yuri texts.

 _‘Is the suspense killing you?’_ JJ says.

_‘You going to fuck around now?’_

_‘How is that any of your business?’_

It’s not. None of this is. JJ’s answer to that question shouldn’t be important, but without any other explanation as to why their relationship failed, Yuri thinks an affirmative response would serve to demonstrate JJ’s lack of commitment, and that’s just the thing Yuri thinks he needs to keep being hateful.

 _‘Heard that was your type of thing,’_ Yuri says.

 _‘And what?_  
_You’re…_  
_Interested?’_

Yuri feels his face go red.

 _‘NO_  
_FUCK_  
_FUCK YOU_  
_NO_  
_YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT’_

 _‘Hahaha just making sure_  
 _This is the first time you’ve randomly texted me_  
Except when you bitched at me about that article but I don't really count that  
 _And now you’re harassing me about my ex and my sex life_  
 _So excuse me for being confused_  
 _My bad_  
 _For a second there I forgot you were pure and virtuous’_

 

 _‘FUCK YOU_  
_AND FUCK THAT PURE INNOCENT BULLSHIT_  
_I’M ONLY ASKING SO I CAN JUDGE YOU FOR IT’_

 _‘Oh_  
_Well_  
_If that’s the case_  
_I can’t say that I won’t fuck around_  
_But I CAN say that I don’t care if your delicate sensibilities are offended by that’_

_‘I DO NOT HAVE DELICATE SENSIBILITIES’_

_‘Sure babe_  
_That’s why my sudden breakup offends you’_

Yuri wants to deny that he’s offended, because doing otherwise might make it seem that he has an uncommon interest in the subject, but he can’t exactly deny that when he’s currently in the process of interrogating JJ about it in the middle of the night.

 _‘It’s not my fault you don’t make any fucking sense,’_ Yuri says.

 _‘It makes all the sense in the world_  
_Izzy and I are taking a break_  
_We can both fuck around with whoever we want_  
_We probably will_  
_And we’re both okay with that_  
_As for me_  
_If I did anything I’d def make sure it’s not serious_  
_Because another relationship is honestly the last thing I need right now’_

_‘And why is that?’_

_‘Why do you keep pushing the issue?’_

_‘Why the fuck did you bother to propose to her if you were going to pull this bullshit?’_

_‘First of all_  
_Stop blaming me for it when it’s a decision Izzy and I made together_  
_I’ve told you that already_  
_I’m not the bad guy here_  
_Izzy’s not the bad guy either_  
_You can mock me for being immature all you want_  
_You’re not entirely wrong_  
_But at least in this situation I like to think Izzy and I are being very grown up about it’_

Yuri has a text half written telling JJ that responsible adults don’t get engaged and then break it off less than a month later, but JJ’s still typing and doesn’t give him the chance to complete it.

 _‘Second of all_  
_It turns out Izzy and I are both kind of impulsive_  
_And we jumped into the whole engagement thing without really thinking it through_  
_Then shit came up and we thought the timing just wasn’t right_  
_And now we don’t want to be doing it for the wrong reasons_  
_It happens_  
_So if you could drop it_  
_That’d be great_  
_Because I don’t really want to keep talking about it’_

It’s difficult to accurately determine tone through text, but Yuri gets the feeling JJ’s being short with him.

On the one hand, JJ’s frustration is an intriguing concept Yuri would like to explore, if only to learn which buttons he should push when he wants a specific reaction. On the other hand, Yuri doesn’t really have the patience to deal with it right now.

 _‘Fuck you_ , _’_ he says, when he can’t think of anything else more appropriate to respond with.

 _‘Why did you suddenly have the burning need to ask me about it at two in the morning anyway?’_ JJ asks.

Yuri doesn’t think he should answer. He should leave the conversation where it is and force it out of his mind. He has far more pressing matters to attend to. This weird shit with JJ is nothing more than an unimportant distraction.

JJ should not _matter_ to him. JJ’s _bullshit_ should not matter to him.

But JJ was the one who started this. He brought the topic up in the lobby, then refused to explain even when Yuri made it clear that he didn’t understand. JJ was the one who changed things between them with that phone call; he made something that should have been a bitter rivalry into something completely different. Yuri doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know anything, just that he’s more pissed off by what he _doesn’t_ know about JJ than he is about what he _does_ know, and that his “I hate you”s are filled with frustration but lack any real contempt.

What Yuri hates now is JJ’s deceptiveness. If JJ was just going to cut him off and leave him in the dark, he shouldn’t have told Yuri about the broken engagement in the first place.

 _‘Why the fuck do you keep texting me every morning?’_ Yuri asks.

 _‘To tell you you’re beautiful?’_ JJ says.

_‘And why the fuck do you do that?’_

_‘Because it’s true and I don’t think you hear it enough?’_

_‘And why the fuck does that matter to you?’_

_‘Honestly it shouldn’t matter at all_  
_But I get the feeling there aren’t enough people in your life who care_  
_Or maybe it’s just that you don’t let them care_  
_I don’t know_  
_Either way_  
_That seems pretty shitty to me_  
_So I thought I’d do something nice’_

_‘What the fuck do you want out of this?’_

_‘Nothing,’_ JJ says. Then, _‘I wouldn’t be against being friends tho’_

That’s exactly what Yuri expected, but it makes the evasiveness even more frustrating, so he asks, _‘If you want to be friends then why the fuck aren’t you being honest with me about your girlfriend?’_

 _‘I am being honest_  
_I’ve been honest with you from the very beginning_  
_There’s shit going on_  
_We’re figuring it out_  
_Maybe the break’s permanent_  
_Maybe it’s not_  
_Maybe we’ll end up with other people_  
_Maybe we won’t_  
_What happens will happen’_

_‘But you’re going to fuck around in the meantime’_

_‘Most likely_  
_Even tho I know the answer you probably want to hear is no_  
_Because your brain obviously can’t compute this sort of shit_  
_I get the feeling you’re pretty fucking clueless about sex and relationships’_

 _‘Fuck you_  
_I’m not clueless’_

He’s not. Yuri refuses to believe that he is. Just because he’s never been in a relationship doesn’t mean he lacks the capacity to understand what generally takes place in one. He knows why people date. He knows how sex is done. He knows what an engagement is supposed to mean. He’s not stupid and he’s not naïve. He’s seen enough. He’s heard enough. There’s no way for him to avoid that sort of knowledge with the people he’s surrounded by.

JJ clearly doesn’t believe him.

 _‘Sure babe,’_ he says.

Yuri doesn’t know how else to read that but to assume that it’s dismissive.

It should make him angry because he hates being dismissed, but something inside actually _hurts_ , and Yuri is so taken aback by it that he can’t stop to think long enough to formulate a response.

He misses the chance when JJ continues.

 _‘Anyway_  
_I’m not you_  
_If I’m out and someone comes along and we both want to have a good time_  
_I’m probably going to be all for it because I happen to enjoy sex_  
_And at this point casual sex is going to be a lot easier than something serious_  
_And with the way things are now it’s probably going to take a lot to change my mind on that_  
_So yeah_  
_I expect I’ll get back to fucking around at some point in the not too distant future’_

Yuri has to take a breath and swallow through the sudden, inexplicable tightness in his throat before he can focus enough to think of what to say.

He hangs onto his anger as best as he can when he texts, _‘Are you being patronizing and bitching at me?’_

 _‘I kind of feel like YOU’RE bitching at ME,’_ JJ says. _‘So yeah maybe I am a little’_

The confirmation sparks a variety of feelings. There’s some subtle anger, of course. There’s more of that hurt. There’s some curiosity, too, because this isn’t the type of reaction he’s used to getting out of JJ at all. Beneath all that, there’s even a small shred of satisfaction, and Yuri can’t tell if it’s because he was right, or because there’s a part of him that might like the response.

JJ fighting back means Yuri still has something to hold against him, and as long as he has that, he doesn’t have to admit that what he feels now is different than what he felt before the Final.

 _‘After all the times I’ve said fuck you or told you to fuck off or said I hate you,’_ Yuri replies, _‘THIS is what it takes for you to lose your cool?’_

 _‘If you think this is me losing my cool you’re going to be surprised if you’re ever around when it does happen_  
_Because I promise this isn’t it_  
_This is me calmly telling you that I’m dealing with shit_  
_Shit I’m pretty sure you can tell is already bringing me down_  
_If you’re going to be judgy with me about it when I’m still trying to work through it_  
_Then I’m going to be a little judgy with you when you act like a brat about it_  
_It’s only fair’_

Yuri figures that’s true enough, even if he still hates to admit when JJ’s right about something. If their positions were reversed, Yuri would have reacted more severely to JJ pushing him on the issue than JJ has reacted to Yuri.

JJ continues with another series of texts.

 _‘I will be your friend_  
_Because I think you need friends even if you’ll deny it_  
_And because I know you’re not as awful as you want people to think you are_  
_I will have your back against Viktor_  
_Because I get the feeling there’s a lot of bullshit going on there_  
_And he pisses me off when he dismisses me and I’m honestly tired of feeling alone in that_  
_I will tell Liam Morrison or anyone else who says demeaning shit about you to go fuck themselves_  
_Because no matter how much attitude you give people you still don’t deserve to have lies spread about you_  
_I will tell you you’re beautiful every fucking day for the rest of my life_  
_Because it’s true and I don’t have any problem admitting it_  
_But I am not going to let you walk all over me’_

That’s not what Yuri’s doing. That’s not what he _thinks_ he’s doing, at least. He won’t say that he’s never tried, because that would be a lie, but he was already beginning to suspect that he wouldn’t be able to manage it with JJ. All Yuri wants now is honestly. All he wants is some sort of an explanation, some piece of sensible information to help him figure out all the confusing shit he has going on in his head.

 _‘So you’re not going to tell me what’s going on?’_ Yuri tries one last time.

 _‘I’ve told you what’s going on,’_ JJ says.

_‘But you’re leaving out some of the details’_

_‘Can you blame me?_  
_We’ve only been on decent terms for six days_  
_And that’s if we’re being generous and counting the night in the lobby_  
_So no I’m not going to get into the details yet_  
_Because I’m not at that point with you_  
_But if it bothers you that much_  
_Give me a little time_  
_Be nicer to me_  
_You know like make an effort?_  
_And I’ll fill you in when I’m ready’_

Yuri doesn’t want to agree to that even though he knows it’s a reasonable request. Not having any sort of timeframe is going to make him just as restless as he’s been over the last week, but he knows asking for one isn’t going to get him anywhere. There’s no way to judge things like that. It could be days. It could be weeks.  It could be months. Maybe he’ll know by the next time he sees JJ in person. Maybe he won’t. JJ has given Yuri his word, but it still seems lacking even if Yuri has few reasons to doubt it beyond his natural inclination to be distrusting.

As things stand now, Yuri has no way of knowing when that promise will actually be fulfilled, and that’s nearly as bad as if there was no promise at all.

 _‘Fuck you,’_ he says.

It will probably comes across the same way it always does in text, but Yuri’s anger is losing the heat it had before.

JJ responds with, _‘Are you going to tell me why it matters to you?’_

Part of Yuri wants to. Another part of him _doesn’t_ want to. He decides to go with the part that does, because this conversation is making him feel more drained than a full day on the ice.

_‘How the fuck do you expect me to be your friend when I can’t completely trust you?’_

_‘You being pissy about this is a trust thing?????’_ JJ asks. His bewilderment comes across loud and clear.

 _‘What else would it be?’_ Yuri asks.

_‘What the fuck would the shit between Izzy and me have to do with you trusting me?’_

_‘Because you tell me weird shit everyday and I can’t figure out your motives’_

There’s a slight pause before JJ texts him back. Yuri only notices it because JJ has been so timely with his responses until now. The dots to indicate that he’s typing don’t even show up for over a minute. They disappear after a few seconds. There’s another pause, then they reappear and disappear again. Yuri can only assume JJ is struggling to determine what he should say.

The third time the dots appear, they finally result in a response.

 _‘I already told you my motives,’_ JJ says. _‘You don’t ever just complement your friends?’_

From that, Yuri can’t tell what JJ was thinking while he was crafting the response.

Admittedly, Yuri rarely knows what JJ’s thinking until JJ opens his big mouth.

 _‘No,’_ Yuri says.

 _‘Guess we know one of the reasons why you don’t have many_  
_You need to work on that babe’_

 _‘You’re a piece of shit,’_ Yuri tells him.

When Yuri’s run out of things to say, insults always seem like the best way to get things back on track.

 _‘Well you’re an impatient little bitch_  
_And I mean that in the calmest friendliest most complimentary way possible’_

_‘Fuck off’_

_‘You’re the one who texted me_  
_Why don’t you fuck off back to sleep?’_

_‘Fucking shithead’_

_‘Your pet names are adorable_  
_Good night little bit’_

Yuri can’t tell if he’s being dismissed again or if JJ really is trying to be considerate about the time, so Yuri decides to end things the way he usually does.

 _‘Fuck you,’_ he says.

He thinks JJ might leave things there, but another message pops up before Yuri can shut off his phone.

 _‘Hahaha little bit_  
_Little bitch’_

Yuri can’t ignore it when another mild wave of annoyance rushes through him. He texts back, _‘Is that where little bit comes from??????? You just drop the ch and call it a nickname??????’_

 _‘Haha no_  
_Little bit just popped into my head in Barcelona_  
_You know cause you’re little_  
_Itty bitty_  
_Little bit_  
_But when you’re being a prick about shit_  
_I guess you’re going to be little bitch now’_

 _‘There are not enough words in any language on this entire fucking planet to express how infuriating you are,’_ Yuri says.

_‘Your impressive grasp of english leads me to believe you’re not exaggerating and speak from actual experience’_

_‘Are you trying to compliment me again?’_

_‘I might be_  
_But now I’m also going to tease you a little because_  
_Throughout this entire conversation_  
_I’ve had your voice in my head_  
_So maybe the reason I haven’t gotten as mad as I should have_  
_Is because your accent is so fucking cute’_

Yuri wants to growl and glare and shout at JJ for being such a fucking idiot, but the most he manages to do it snort, roll his eyes, and send another, _‘Fuck you’_

 _‘Go to sleep little bit,’_ JJ says.

_‘Don’t tell me what to do’_

_‘Lullaby and goodnight_  
_In the sky stars are bright_  
_Round your head_  
_Flowers gay_  
_Set your slumbers til day’_

_‘Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you’_

Yuri shuts off his phone and drops it onto the bedside table. It doesn’t vibrate again, so he shuffles around on the bed until he’s on his stomach and can press his face into one of the pillows. He considers suffocating himself again, just to avoid more confusion and annoyance, but he decides against it because he still has too much he needs to do before he dies.

The first thing is to take gold at Nationals whether or not Viktor competes, just to prove his superiority in his home country. Maybe once he does, people will stop talking about Viktor as much and Yuri can finally get some of the recognition he was expecting to come from his Senior debut.

The second thing is to take gold at the European Championships, so as to cement his superiority over all of Europe — a fact Yuri doesn’t think should even be contested in the first place. He doesn’t expect much in the way of competition. Maybe Chris will get some of his fire back if Viktor competes, but they’re both getting old, so their decline wouldn’t really come as a surprise.

The third thing is, naturally, to take gold at the World Championships and dangle his victory in JJ’s stupid face.

Yuri takes a deep breath against the pillow but doesn’t draw in much air. Still, he waits long enough for his lungs to start hurting before turning his head to the side. His eyes land on his computer screen, which switched to his screensaver sometime during his conversation with JJ. Yuri spends a few minutes watching one cat picture after another fade in and out on the screen. His mood must have disturbed Katenka, because she left him alone while he was busy texting, but she wanders over now and starts rubbing her head against his face.

He’s not angry.

Annoyed? Yes.

Disappointed? Most definitely.

Confused? Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so confused by anything in his entire life, and he hates that this is the thing that’s brought him to heretofore unknown levels of bewilderment.

But he’s not really angry anymore. Even if he wants to be. Even if he tries desperately to hold onto it, because anger is easier, and he needs something about this situation to be easy. The frustration remains, but Yuri can actually _feel_ the anger slipping away. He knows why it’s fading. When he’s being honest, he can admit that he knew things would probably reach this point the very first time he texted JJ back. In retrospect, Yuri should have ignored him instead.

The anger never lasts as long as he wants it to. It comes in quick bursts, some of which linger for a time, but most of which leave him feeling weary and unfulfilled even when he uses the anger to his advantage.

So Yuri gives up.

He frowns petulantly, he buries his face into Katenka’s fur in search of comfort, and he lets the anger go.

He has to accept that he can’t win against JJ by shouting at him and picking fights.

He also has to accept that, aside from a spot on the podium whenever they compete, there isn’t really anything _to_ win. The animosity and antagonism have become pointless. Yuri gets nothing from them, least of all satisfaction. In the end, all it accomplishes is to make him feel like a foolish child, clinging to something that has no real use but to keep more distance between himself and someone who isn’t really much of a threat until they step on the ice.

After Otabek, Yuri wasn’t looking for another friend. Even in the event that he was, he’s sure JJ wouldn’t have been his first choice.

But that seems to be his fate. Yuri can either continue kicking and screaming against it, or he can accept it and make the most of it.

As the night wears on, he comes to the conclusion that he might get more out of the situation if he lets things happen as they’re clearly meant to, instead of doing everything he can to avoid something that was probably inevitable all along. The signs were there from the moment he flopped into that chair in the hotel lobby. He’s just spent the last week living in a state of half-denial.

Yuri’s phone doesn’t vibrate again until his alarm goes off at 4:30. He still hasn’t gotten much sleep, but he doesn’t think about it as he rolls out of bed and heads downstairs for his vitamins and breakfast.

He gets a few more texts when he sits down at the table with his fruit and yogurt.

 _‘You’re insecure_  
_Don’t know what for_  
_You’re turning heads when you walk through the do-o-or’_

Yuri snorts and texts back, _‘You are not quoting a one direction song at me’_

JJ never stopped typing, so the rest comes through before Yuri’s text sends.

 _‘Don’t need makeup_  
_To cover up_  
_Being the way that you are is eno-o-ough’_

 _‘Fuck you are,’_ Yuri says.

 _‘Everyone else in the room can see it_  
_Everyone else but you~’_

_‘You have a very questionable taste in music’_

_‘Baby you light up my world like nobody else_  
_The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed_  
_But when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell_  
_You don’t kno-o-ow_  
_You don’t know you’re beautiful’_

_‘You fucking loser’_

JJ sends him an emoji with its tongue sticking out.

 _‘Maybe_  
_But_  
_You started responding way too fast for you to look up what that was_  
_So that means you know that one direction song_  
_Which I feel like_  
_By your logic_  
_Makes you a loser too_  
_Or it would if I thought liking a one direction song makes someone a loser’_

 _‘You are the biggest fucking loser alive_  
_And I will prove it to you at worlds’_

 _‘I’ll make you a deal_  
_You take gold at worlds_  
_And I will put a fucking crown on your head myself’_

“Eat, Yuri,” Lilia says when she sits down beside him.

Yuri shoves a spoonful of his breakfast into his face and texts back while he’s swallowing, _‘I feel like it should be a tiara’_

 _‘Oh yeah?’_ JJ says.

 _‘Yeah get me a fucking tiara_  
_A really flashy one_  
_If some little gossip whore bitch thinks he can insult me by calling me a queen_  
_I might as well own it’_

 _‘I’m going to be honest_  
_I really dig it when you’re being a catty bitch to someone who isn’t me’_

 _‘We can take a picture_  
_With you bowing at my feet’_

_‘I will do that even if I beat you’_

“Yuri…” Lilia says, when he’s paid too much attention to his phone.

 _‘I’m going to humiliate you at worlds,’_ Yuri sends, then drops his phone onto the table to shovel more yogurt into his face.

Lilia sips at her tea in that incredibly unconcerned way Yuri is quickly becoming accustomed to. Yakov, on the other hand, keeps shooting Yuri suspicious looks across the table, like Yuri’s interest in his phone when he would usually be sluggishly eating is some sort of sign that Yuri has been misbehaving. Yakov even takes out his own phone to scroll through a few things, as if he expects Yuri might have been causing trouble on social media.

When he finds nothing, and Yuri doesn’t rise to the silent accusations, Yakov meets Lilia’s eye and doesn’t bother to keep his face from pinching in confusion.

Yuri’s phone vibrates again. Yakov’s hand moves like he’s going to reach for it and see for himself what Yuri’s up to, but Yuri swallows the last of his breakfast and snatches it up before Yakov so much as gets a finger on it. As he backs away from the table, Yuri sticks his tongue out at Yakov tauntingly. He carries his spoon and his empty bowl into the kitchen before either one of his coaches can snap a reminder at him.

It isn’t until Yuri’s heading back up the stairs that he checks JJ’s message.

 _‘You’ll try_  
_And_  
_That’s what makes you beautiful!’_

 _‘You’re corny and a fucking idiot,’_ Yuri says.

 _‘Yeah but_  
_You think I’m alright’_

 _‘You can tell yourself that as much as you want_  
_It still doesn't make it true’_

 _‘I don’t have to tell myself anything_  
_You told me so in Barcelona_  
_I bet you also think I’m kind of funny’_

Yuri snorts even as he texts, _‘I do not’_

 _‘You do_  
_Secretly you think I’m hilarious_  
_Because deep down you’re also an obnoxious son of a bitch_  
_You just haven’t had anyone to be obnoxious with until now’_

_‘And what makes you think I want to be obnoxious with you?’_

_‘Babe you want me to buy you a fucking tiara because some jackass called you a queen,’_ JJ says.

 _‘True,’_ Yuri allows.

 _‘And I am dumb and crazy enough to go along with it_  
_Even though I know any picture we take is going to make that jackass go batshit’_

_‘You’ve already said you’re irresponsible’_

JJ sends him an emoji. This one is frowning and shedding a sweat drop as he texts, _‘You have no idea’_

He isn’t wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs JJ has been singing are as follows:  
> ["I'll Be"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWqLtXXzldk) by Edwin McCain  
> ["The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vM4glPisJo4) by Roberta Flack  
> ["Dream A Little Dream of Me"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xuvcxko9teM) by Ozzie Nelson  
> ["You Are So Beautiful"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6UM3lMfIJI) by Billy Preston  
> ["Holding Out for a Hero"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWcASV2sey0) by Bonnie Tyler  
> ["Golden Slumbers"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qrDlRsARwk) by The Beatles  
> ["Landslide"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_PQ4fRQ5Kc) by Fleetwood Mac  
> Celine Dion's version of ["Brahm's Lullaby"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBq9bV9rTHc)  
> And ["What Makes You Beautiful"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJO3ROT-A4E) by One Direction
> 
> P.S. I'm on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/merrily-merrily) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MerryMerrily) but I'm shy so I don't always talk a lot, and sometimes I get so distracted by writing that I forgot both of them exist.


	6. Face Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri finds another ally, and struggles with his feelings in the midst of a deepening “feud” that may or may not be entirely one-sided, all while JJ continues to chip away at his defenses — a fact that Yuri is entirely aware of but no longer feels the motivation to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to apologize for taking eight months to post an update. I wish I could say there won’t ever be another long wait between chapters, but that would probably be a lie. I’ve been known to take a looooong time to update in the past. Please forgive me!!!
> 
> Second, I feel like I say this every time I post something, but I intended for this chapter to include more than it does. It’s long enough to post on it’s own, though, and since it’s been so long since the last time I updated this fic (and I am in desperate need of a shot of motivation), I decided to leave it where it is and save the rest for the next chapter.

“Seems like the more you grow, the more time you spend alone;  
Before you know it, you end up perfectly on your own.  
The city's shining bright, but you don't see the light;  
How come you concentrate on things that don't make you feel right?”

\- [“Face Up” by Lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtgMSidl1zU)

* * *

 

The text conversations with JJ occur with predictable frequency.

Before Yuri leaves for the training complex on Friday morning, he takes a picture of Katenka sleeping with the tip of her tongue sticking out, and he posts it online to the delight of his adoring fans. Later, judging by the timing of the notifications he receives and the text that soon follows, Yuri comes to the conclusion that his lunch break coincides with JJ waking up.

_‘If I had a cat that looked like yours,’_ JJ says, _‘I would name them sassy’_

Yuri takes the time to finish a text he was already in the middle of working on — a long rant to Otabek. Yakov’s been trying to peek at Yuri’s phone all morning. It’s like he still expects Yuri’s doing something wrong, despite having no evidence to support his assumptions. Yuri’s grown weary enough of it that he feels the need to vent.

Once he’s sent the text, Yuri switches to JJ’s message and answers, _‘What?’_

JJ’s response arrives moments later. _‘Like sassy from homeward bound’_

_‘That answers nothing’_

_‘It’s a movie_  
_About two dogs and a cat lost in the wilderness trying to get home_  
_Also they talk_  
_Sort of_  
_It’s cute'_

_‘Never seen it,’_ Yuri says.

_‘Damn_  
_The cat’s name is sassy and she looks like yours_  
_And I feel like you are the exact type of person who should have a cat named sassy’_

_‘Tough shit that’s not her name’_

_‘Going to call her sassy anyway,’_ JJ says.

Yuri wants to be irritated by that, but isn’t. With a roll of his eyes, he decides, perhaps tauntingly, to withhold Katenka’s name.

Later in the evenings, when Yuri’s relaxing in the bath, he’s come to expect that JJ will text him with a question. So far, most of JJ’s questions seem like they might be relevant to whatever dumb ideas have popped into his head, none of which he has yet to explain to Yuri. On other occasions, JJ will ask Yuri something completely mundane.

_‘Hey little bit’_

Once Yuri’s let go of most of his anger, he finds that determining JJ’s tone via text becomes a little easier as long as he pays attention to what nickname JJ decides to use at any given moment.

“Tiny Dancer” is the rarest of them. JJ hasn’t used it since Barcelona. Yuri might think he’s discarded it, except that JJ made a point of serenading him twice with that song at the hotel. Its lack of use seems purposeful. Thus far, it’s the only nickname JJ has never used around other people. Yuri doesn’t know if that’s supposed to mean something; if it does, he doesn’t know why that’s the case, when the inception of “Tiny Dancer” was as full of teasing as the rest of the names have been. That it hasn’t been used again makes Yuri think it’s somehow more personal. The next time JJ says it, Yuri expects that he will do so deliberately.

One might assume that “Babe” is JJ’s favorite, judging by how often it slips into his speech. “Babe” also holds the distinction of being the most irritating. It has multiple different meanings. JJ will use it when he’s being sarcastic, and when he’s being snide. Sometimes, it will be used in a manner that is obviously meant to be teasing. Just as often, it seems as if JJ uses it for no reason at all. There’s something sort of nonchalant about it. It’s casual, as if the amount of teasing JJ’s done in the days following the Grand Prix has caused him to grow accustomed to its use. It’s therefore the most difficult for Yuri to read, because he can’t always be sure that he’s attributing the correct meaning.

The name JJ truly favors, Yuri thinks, is “Little Bit.” It’s less prevalent, but it seems to harbor a growing level of fondness the more JJ uses it. Yuri wants to hate it, because it’s silly and childish and it should be demeaning, yet he finds that he doesn’t dislike it as much as he knows he should. That in itself is aggravating. Despite the arguably infantile nature of it, JJ seems to say it with sincerity. More often than not, JJ will use it as a greeting when he wants to have an easygoing conversation. It is JJ’s way of infusing his comments with sweetness and consideration. It has become something of a sign. When Yuri sees it now, he thinks it’s JJ’s way of saying, “This particular comment isn’t meant to tease you.”

_‘There’s something that’s been bugging me,’_ JJ says.

Yuri considers attempting to make himself seem annoyed, but he can’t determine the best way to do that, so he settles for simply asking _‘What?’_ and hopes JJ imagines his voice sounding snappy.

_‘What’s the deal with the tiny half ponytail that doesn’t keep your hair out of your face?’_

Yuri snorts. He posted another selfie before his ballet lesson with Lilia that afternoon, and his hair was styled exactly that way. Checking his notifications informs him that JJ has recently liked it.

_‘Aesthetic,’_ Yuri texts back.

JJ sends him an emoji rolling its eyes.

_‘I feel like I should have expected that answer,’_ he says. Then he asks, _‘Your scary Russian ballerina coach lets you get away with that?’_

_‘Yes and no_  
_She hates it_  
_But my hair wasn’t always long enough to pull back the way she wanted’_

_‘It is now tho’_

_‘Now I’m just being spiteful,’_ Yuri says.

_‘That’s pretty fucking brave of you_  
_She’s the scariest woman I think I’ve ever seen’_

Though it amuses Yuri that JJ should feel that way, he doesn’t know whether or not he agrees with the evaluation himself.

On the one hand, Lilia often seems all-knowing, as if she’s aware of certain aspects of Yuri’s character that Yuri can’t yet see in himself. He gets the feeling there are many things Lilia’s keeping from him, and Yuri is convinced that not all of it is positive. She hasn’t spoken to him about his breakdown after the Grand Prix Final, nor has she said a word to him about Viktor. And yet, when she isn’t feigning indifference, she’s watching Yuri carefully, always with a frown others might think looks displeased, but which Yuri has learned means that Lilia is concerned.

On the other hand, there are pleasant moments between them that, in the last week, have become more and more frequent.

When his conversations with JJ end, and Yuri climbs from the bath and dresses, he descends the stairs to sit with Lilia while she brushes his hair. This routine is completely unnecessary, because he washes his hair during his post-practice shower and has no need to wet it again during his bath. He does so anyway. The time he spends submerged under water offers a brief period of peace, and the more he experiences these calm, gentle moments with Lilia after, the more Yuri grows to appreciate them.

She is strict with him, but attentive. She does not always verbalize her pride or her fondness. When he sits with her in silence like this, Yuri doesn’t need her to.

Each night, the time they spend on their routine lengthens. The first time, Lilia’s actions were quick and perfunctory; she did only what was necessary to work the tangles out of Yuri’s hair. Now, the slide of the brush has become slow and methodical. It begins to feel comforting. By Friday night, Lilia drops all pretense and ends the custom with a few doting strokes of her fingers through the damp strands.

Soon, once Yuri has adjusted to the change, he thinks he will let himself lean into it.

“Good night, Yuri,” Lilia says every night, when Yuri makes his way back up the stairs.

“‘Night,” he replies.

The more they do this, the less irritated he sounds. He goes up to bed without complaint, though he no longer has any hope that he will be able to sleep.

It doesn’t matter how relaxed he is at the end of the day, insomnia has become a constant in his life since Barcelona. Yuri tosses and turns. Sometimes he dozes off and on, but never for very long. He spends hours staring through the darkness — sometimes at the wall, sometimes at the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. When boredom ultimately descends upon him, Yuri listens to music. When even that does nothing to help, Yuri gives up and putters around online. He stalks people through social media, or searches his own name and reads through the hundreds of posts and comments that have been written about him.

Most of what people say to him directly is supportive. Many of them, especially his fans, are affectionate. He finds countless posts that cast him in a positive light, that would make his heart swell with pride if he didn’t often feel so conflicted. He reads through the article JJ showed him after the Final repeatedly, and he stares at the accompanying picture and tries to dredge up the emotions he felt in that moment, only to realize that he can no longer remember. Looking back, the only thing that stands out about his performance was the fear he drowned in after, and the frustration he felt in not skating his best.

There are other posts he finds in the early morning hours, articles and comments that judge him more negatively. That he is often hostile and rude is no surprise to anyone who knows him; Yuri can ignore people when they say those things, because they aren’t wrong. But there are other comments that rankle, that remind him why he usually only ever reads the things he finds through his friends.

_“Yuri Plisetsky is an inferior talent compared to the likes of Viktor Nikiforov.”_

_“Yuri Plisetsky lacks the ability to make a lasting impression.”_

_“Yuri Plisetsky is skilled, but not sensational.”_

_“Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t have the strength or the inventiveness to continue competing among the world’s most elite skaters.”_

After his phone alarm goes off, when Yuri has trudged downstairs for his vitamins and his breakfast, he is greeted by another text — a song and a compliment that would continue to irritate him if he didn’t need the affirmation. When his mind is stuck on the negativity, when even the picture from the Final doesn’t spark a surge of pride or confidence, Yuri finds that the praise is welcome.

_‘Your eyes your eyes make the stars look like they’re not shining_  
_Your hair your hair falls perfectly without you trying_  
_You’re so beautiful_  
_And I’ll tell you everyday’_

Yuri knows that he should resent JJ’s tenderness and admiration, but it’s these texts, more than any of the others, that begin to chip away at the walls he’s built around himself.

It’s a dangerous thing, he thinks, to appreciate the compliments in any capacity.

Nevertheless, it’s the fifth day he’s received such a text, and Yuri no longer feels the need to insist that JJ stop.

* * *

At lunch on Saturday, exactly twenty-two hours before they’re scheduled to fly to Yekaterinburg for the week of the Russian National Championships, Mila slides into a chair across the table from Yuri. Initially, Yuri refuses to look up from his phone. He’s busy texting Otabek and has no interest in whatever Mila intends to taunt him with this time.

“I have gossip,” she says.

Yuri would continue to ignore her if Mila wasn’t making a point of keeping her voice low. It’s uncommon for her to stay quiet when she has news to share. Normally, she would launch into her story whether or not Yuri gave any indication that he was actually listening to her. By her hushed tone and her calculated pause, Yuri assumes whatever she wants to tell him has nothing to do with either of her recent favorite topics — one of her exes, or Georgi’s new girlfriend.

When he finally glances up, Yuri sees that Mila is staring at him with an expression that’s both curious and troubled. She watches him intently, like there’s a question she’s trying to figure out the answer to on her own.

“What?” Yuri says.

Mila takes so long to answer, Yuri almost snaps at her to spit it out. There’s something that looks like concern in her eyes. She glances around to make sure no one’s paying any attention to them before she says, in the same quiet voice as before, “Viktor’s back.”

A week ago, Yuri would have assumed the news would inflame his anger and annoyance. It does, to an extent. Yuri can feel the heat of it burning low in his blood, but he can’t focus on it, can’t pull it forward yet, because his chest tightens and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

“ _What_?” he hisses.

Yuri almost rises from his chair. He starts to push himself up, but Mila reaches over to grab onto his arm. She yanks him back down and looks around again to make sure they haven’t been noticed. Then she moves from one chair to another, so she’s sitting diagonal to him instead of across from him.

“He’s with Yakov now,” she says lowly. “I passed by Yakov’s office and overheard them talking.”

“Why’s he here?” Yuri asks. “What does he want?”

He experiences a brief sense of horror, and he doesn’t know the reasons for it when he knew all along that this was going to happen, except that he was somehow still unprepared for Viktor’s return. Yuri’s had a week to focus on himself. With each day that passed him by, it seemed less and less likely that Viktor would be competing at Nationals.

Since they left Barcelona, Yuri has heard nothing of Viktor but the “Will he or won’t he?” news segments that air every day. Yakov does not speak of him. Lilia does not speak of him. Georgi and Mila do not speak of him. It’s as if Viktor and his return to competition have become a taboo subject between them all. Yuri hasn’t felt the need to broach the topic with anyone either, as if by failing to do so he can somehow keep Viktor at bay.

Now it’s the day before they’re scheduled to leave, and Viktor is back.

Because of course he is. That’s _Viktor_. If he’s going to return to competition, naturally he’s going to ensure that it’s as dramatic as humanly possible.

An odd feeling almost like despair washes through Yuri. Something in his gut sinks. Any hope he had of finally getting the recognition he thinks he deserves seems to evaporate in a matter of seconds.

Yuri thought he would like the opportunity to compete against Viktor this season, to prove himself once and for all, to silence all the voices questioning whether or not he has what it takes. When he thought of Nationals before this moment, Yuri liked to imagine himself standing on the podium with another gold medal around his neck, shooting Viktor a triumphant smirk as Viktor stood on one of the lower levels beside him — or, better yet, off the podium entirely.

Now, all Yuri can think is that Viktor has come to steal the spotlight again, as he has since the Grand Prix series began. Yuri has been consistently overshadowed, and the attention that should have been on “Yuri Plisetsky, rising star, 15-year-old Grand Prix gold medalist” has instead been given to “Viktor Nikiforov’s successful run as coach,” and “Viktor Nikiforov’s shocking love affair,” and “Viktor Nikiforov’s anticipated return to competition.”

And Yuri begins to imagine himself once again in Viktor’s shadow, with Viktor standing on the center podium as he has year after year since Yuri was young, when this opportunity seemed like nothing more than a pipe dream. Yuri imagines the look of satisfaction on Viktor’s face, and he feels sick, because Yuri doesn’t know if he would ever be able to put that failure behind him. How is he supposed to prove himself, when he’s met with obstacle after obstacle every time he’s finished scaling the last one?

Very quietly, very cautiously, Mila says, “He met with the Federation. They’ve said he can’t compete while he’s coaching.”

Slowly, Yuri pulls in a deep breath of air.

He doesn’t allow himself to rejoice. Not yet.

“So he’s left Katsudon,” Yuri spits out.

He should have expected as much. From the beginning, he should have known. Viktor made a promise to Yuri, and he broke it. What is there to stop him from doing the same to Yuuri? Viktor has always lived for himself. It was only a matter of time.

Yuri is more irritated by the thought than he assumed he would be. Months ago, he wouldn’t have cared about what happened to Yuuri Katsuki. In fact, he probably would have been happy to see Viktor leave him. It was what Yuri wanted in the beginning, when he first went to Japan to drag Viktor back to Russia.

Yuri doesn’t think he should care now, when nothing particularly significant has changed. There’s a part of him that still resents Yuuri, because even if Yuuri wasn’t ultimately responsible for what happened with Viktor, he was still a very big part of the situation. In Yuri’s mind, Yuuri Katsuki is still “the Other,” the weeping failure Viktor broke his promise for, discarding Yuri even after everything Yuri did to uphold his part of their agreement.

That promise meant _everything_ to Yuri.

To Viktor, it meant nothing at all, and to Yuuri, it didn’t even seem to be a factor.

But then there’s the part of Yuri, small though it may be, that _likes_ Yuuri Katsuki, that appreciates Yuuri’s kindness, and the hard work Yuuri has put into building himself up to the point he reached in Barcelona. He wants to beat Yuuri in competition, wants to break Yuuri’s record with the same sort of desperation he wanted to take gold at the Grand Prix Final, but he doesn’t want to see Yuuri fail, even if Yuuri failing might mean Viktor will have failed. Yuuri isn’t Viktor any more than Yuri is, and Yuri sometimes hopes that Yuuri will look at him one day with understanding in his eyes.

Out of everyone in Yuri’s life, Yuuri Katsuki is now most vulnerable to being cast into the same role Yuri has found himself in — to be viewed as simply another part of Viktor’s legacy, rather than an entity all his own.

Maybe they aren’t friends yet — not the way Yuri and Otabek are friends, not even the way Yuri and JJ are hesitantly becoming something less contentious than they were before — but Yuri knows they’re _something_. He can’t like the idea of Viktor leaving Yuuri even if it’s what he wanted eight months ago, because he doesn’t think Yuuri deserves to be in that position. As much as Viktor should give up this farce of a coaching gig, Yuri doesn’t want it to happen like this, with Yuuri Katsuki growing comfortable with the arrangement, only to be abandoned so soon after finding success, cast aside on another one of Viktor’s whims.

But Mila shakes her head in response.

“Not yet,” she says. “He’s going back to Japan to coach Katsuki during the Japanese Championships.”

Yuri takes another breath. He holds the air in his lungs and lets himself process the news.

The image of Viktor looming over him doesn’t disappear, but Yuri’s able to push it a little further back in his mind. He tries to ignore the way his stomach seems to tie itself into knots. He’s both disappointed that he won’t yet have the chance to hand Viktor his ass on the ice, and grateful that he won’t have to face that pressure yet, because even if he _wants_ to do it, even if he _craves_ that chance, even if he’s been restlessly waiting for it, there’s still a part of him that knows he isn’t ready yet.

This isn’t the right moment. He needs more time. He has to skate two clean programs, take the gold, and put what happened after his free skate during the Grand Prix Final behind him. Whether or not Viktor had anything to do with that doesn’t change the fact that Yuri needs to rebuild his confidence. When he finally does face Viktor in competition, Yuri wants to be able to do so without any reservations.

“Viktor seemed pretty upset,” Mila says.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Why? Because for once in his life he isn’t getting whatever the fuck he wants?”

Mila doesn’t look surprised by the snide remark. “You’re not totally wrong.”

He doesn’t need Mila to tell him that, yet hearing her agree has Yuri considering her more seriously. Mila grows quiet, clearly expecting a response. Yuri doesn’t give her one. He stares suspiciously, then shrugs and looks back down at his phone.

She sighs at him, exasperated. “Are you ever going to tell me what the fuck’s going on with you two?”

“There’s nothing going on,” he snaps.

“Right,” she says, disbelieving. “So that stuff Yakov and Lilia were arguing about on the plane was just a bunch of bullshit?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I can go ask Viktor instead.”

Yuri bristles. He glances up again with an impatient glare. Mila’s not the type to make threats and then not follow through. If he doesn’t give her anything, she’ll get up and find Viktor, and whatever she hears from him won’t be anything close to the truth. Viktor will act forgetful. He’ll make excuses, or lie outright. Perhaps he doesn’t even think there’s an issue at all.

“Viktor’s just going to pretend like everything’s fine,” Yuri says.

“But everything’s not fine?”

She looks concerned still. Her brow is furrowed, and she’s frowning ever so slightly. There’s a watchfulness to her eyes. It almost seems defensive. Protective, maybe.

“You’ll pick favorites if I tell you,” Yuri accuses.

Mila snorts. “Well, yeah, but I thought I’ve been making it pretty obvious that you’re my favorite.”

Yuri stares at her in silence.

He didn’t think that at all.

Why would he, when Viktor has always been the first choice? Ever since Yuri first came to Saint Petersburg, Viktor has been the center of attention. The consideration hasn’t been completely unwarranted, of course. Gold at the Olympics, Gold at the Grand Prix Final, Gold at Nationals, Gold at the European Championships, Gold at Worlds five years running — with that sort of competitive record, it’s only natural that all eyes would be on Viktor. In spite of his faults, Viktor is an amazing skater. The awe and admiration — those things are to be expected.

But it’s frustrating. It often feels as if there’s no room for anyone else. The world has it’s star in Viktor. It doesn’t need another. It’s disheartening for Yuri, to have so much talent, and so much drive, to experience so much success, to work so hard and push himself so far ahead, sometimes prematurely, only to be relegated to the background. He knows he has what it takes to outshine Viktor, yet it often seems that no one will allow him to. No one _wants_ him to, not while there’s still an opportunity for Viktor to claim another win.

Yuri’s confusion must show on his face, because Mila rolls her eyes at him.

“You’ve known me for five years now and you never figured that out?”

He doesn’t know how to respond. The truth is, he’s never considered Mila as an ally. She isn’t anything close to an adversary, but it’s difficult for Yuri to connect with her in any meaningful way when her behavior is frequently so aggravating. She pesters him on a daily basis. She mocks him — never scathingly, but enough that Yuri doesn’t trust her to understand. Mila treats him as if he’s young and naive, like a kid brother she has to watch over, instead of as a friend.

Her frown grows a little sad. She sighs again, but this one doesn’t sound irritated.

“Look,” she begins, “before Yakov snatched you up, it was just me, Georgi, and Viktor. You think I didn’t get pretty damned familiar with the way Viktor acts?”

Yuri shrugs in response, slow and cautious. Of course he expects that she _knows_ what Viktor’s like. Viktor projects a mature and dignified image to the world, but their rinkmates all know him as fickle and self-absorbed.

“Yeah, he’s nice,” Mila continues, “and, yeah, his drama’s pretty amusing. He’s supportive when the rest of us do well and he offers advice when he thinks we need it, but that’s it. He’s never bothered to get to know us. He’s never been close to any of us. Hell, he seemed closer to you than he’s ever been with me or Georgi, but you’ve just kept brushing him off.”

“Because he doesn’t have any clue what he’s talking about.,” Yuri snaps.

“Probably,” Mila says. “You know, I used to think he kept his distance from us because he’s so much older. At a totally different point in his career and all that. And maybe that’s part of it, but that never stopped me and Georgi from getting on.”

Yuri knows that’s not it. He thought it was, once — that Viktor kept himself removed from them on purpose, because Yuri and Mila are young. But that never explained Viktor’s distance from Georgi. Perhaps if Georgi was of a skill level to match Viktor, the restraint there might have been understandable. Yet the reality is that Georgi has never been a threat; he may be talented, but no one can say that he is a proper rival for Viktor.

“Eventually I figured it’s that Viktor just doesn’t get it,” Mila explains. “He has no idea what it’s like for the rest of us because he’s always been on a completely different level. He’s never had to struggle to prove himself. He’s never had to fight for anything. He’s been successful for so long, I don’t think he remembers what it’s like to earn his place. I’m not even sure he ever had to.”

That has Yuri considering Mila again, studying her the way she studied him before.

Mila is successful. Third in the world in Ladies’ Singles is an accomplishment to be proud of. Yuri knows it isn’t an easy position to maintain in her discipline. In Russia alone, she faces fierce competition year after year — more than Yuri has, he can admit; perhaps more than any of Yakov’s trainees. It is a constant struggle to defend her titles, at home and on the world stage. Mila is so carefree, sometimes Yuri forgets that.

She doesn’t have Viktor’s shadow to overcome, but she _does_ know how difficult it is to remain relevant.

“Plus, he’s sort of selfish,” she continues. “He’s always been pretty wrapped up in himself. Like, don’t get me wrong, he makes a great drinking buddy. Partying with him is always an experience. But he sucks at being someone’s friend. I don’t think he really knows how to connect with people.”

Yuri makes a quiet sound — a hum of agreement.

“Sometimes I felt bad for him because he’d look kind of lonely, but now that he’s got Katsuki I don’t get those vibes from him anymore. I’m honestly surprised he and Katsuki have lasted so long, though. Considering how Viktor is.”

“It probably helps that Katsudon worships the fucking ground Viktor walks on,” Yuri says.

“Yeah, that’ll do it, I guess.”

Mila pauses like she expects Yuri to say something else. When he doesn’t, she asks, “So what did Viktor do?”

Her voice sounds gentle. Annoyed though he might be that Mila continues to pry, Yuri can appreciate the obvious effort she’s making to repress her impulse to tease him.

Still, Yuri doesn’t know that he wants to tell her. Even with her thoughts about Viktor out in the open, even though she seems supportive, Yuri is not yet convinced that Mila will truly be understanding. She might think he’s exaggerating, or that he’s being too sensitive. She might brush off his concerns and try to explain away Viktor’s behavior, like Yakov did with Lilia.

But Mila’s question is encouraging. She’s just done what JJ did to start chipping away at Yuri’s defenses. She’s blamed Viktor instead.

So Yuri opens up — hesitantly, with a careful eye on her all the while. He makes a close study of each expression that crosses her face. The more consideration he sees there, the more information she earns, until Yuri’s spilling out nearly everything that’s occurred over the last eight months.

He tells her about being thirteen years old, how Viktor took his hand and made a promise he would later forget. Yuri put all of his hopes and dreams on that promise. He upheld his end of the bargain twice over. Two Junior Grand Prix titles, two Junior World titles, and several more gold medals in between. Viktor was _there_ for it all. Viktor paid attention. He offered advice. He scolded Yuri like he meant to guide Yuri all the while, but when the time came to follow through, Viktor left Yuri behind like he meant nothing.

“He didn’t _forget_ ,” Yuri fumes. “He was watching me the whole fucking time.”

He tells her how Viktor made him skate a program he didn’t want, a program he doesn’t like or understand. Viktor never adequately explained it, never cared to make sure Yuri made any sense of it, just sent him off on bullshit tasks that frustrated Yuri more than they helped him grasp the concept. The more he looks back on his time in Hasetsu, the more it feels like a set-up. He tells Mila that, too. He knew all along that Viktor was going to pick Katsuki, that he was wasting his time trying to prove something to Viktor that Viktor didn’t even care to see. He simply couldn’t admit it until the very end, when he performed his best, when Viktor said as much, but it still wasn’t enough.

He tells her how Viktor has acted since then, only acknowledging Yuri when it suits him, how Viktor didn’t pay a single bit of attention to him in Moscow, until Yuri’s presence was useful when it came to deflecting scrutiny away from himself. He tells her how Viktor has behaved as if nothing has changed between them at all, as if he wasn’t responsible for crushing all of Yuri’s aspirations so soundly, as if Viktor wasn’t the reason Yuri has been working so hard to rebuild himself in the months that followed Hasetsu. To Viktor, he has been nothing more than an afterthought — a passing interest and nothing more. Perhaps Viktor hasn’t been a conniving prick outright, but he certainly hasn’t done Yuri any favors.

The longer Yuri speaks, the angrier he becomes. He has not gone over the details like this with anyone. As he puts it all out there now, Yuri realizes how much proof he actually has of Viktor’s disregard, as his brain supplies him with one memory after another. He’s not exaggerating, or making anything up. Never once since Yuri left Hasetsu has Viktor messaged him. All the progress Yuri has made on Agape since Viktor taught him the choreography was accomplished on his own, under Yakov and Lilia’s guidance. Never once has Viktor expressed concern for him, or shown that he cares in any capacity. His encouragement sounds empty, something he says because it’s expected of him, not because he means it.

The only thing Yuri doesn’t tell Mila about is the day Viktor grabbed his face. He doesn’t know why he continues to keep it to himself when it might actually lead to Mila becoming angry on his behalf, but the thought of anyone knowing about it unnerves him. He’d forget about it if he could, leave it in Barcelona where it belongs.

The last thing Yuri shares is the moment Viktor approached Yakov during the Grand Prix Final, when Yuri was _right there_ , minutes away from his free skate. There is understanding in Mila’s eyes then, as she finally pieces together the conversation between Yakov and Lilia on the plane.

“He hasn’t even apologized for ditching me,” Yuri says. “He says he doesn’t regret it. He’d do it again.”

“You think he’s messing with you?” Mila asks.

Yuri shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe. It feels that way sometimes.”

“Have you talked to Yakov about it?”

“I’m not going to whine to Yakov.”

“What about Lilia then?”

“What the fuck do you honestly expect Lilia to be able to do?” Yuri says.

“Kick Yakov’s ass into gear?”

“I can handle it myself.”

“You sure?” Mila asks.

She’s watching him intently, like she knows there’s something else going on, something he’s holding back. Yuri’s memory flashes back to the bathroom after the Final — the fear and the uncertainty that overwhelmed him to the point of breathlessness and nausea.

He says nothing about it. Sympathetic as Mila has been so far, Yuri still doesn’t want to share that with her. He doesn’t want to share it with anyone — only Otabek, if necessary. Even then, he’d rather put it off as long as he possibly can.

“Leave it,” Yuri tells her.

“Okay,” she agrees, “but tell me if Viktor does anything really shady.”

Yuri rolls his eyes.

“I mean it,” Mila says, firmly enough that he can’t brush her off completely. “I can’t imagine him going out of his way to give you shit, but if he did try to psych you out at the Final… I’ll kick his ass, okay?”

It sounds honest. Her tone of voice is protective. In that moment, Yuri doesn’t doubt that she’d fight for him. She has a determined look in her eyes, and she’s frowning openly.

“You’re my favorite,” she tells him again. “Even if you’re the biggest fucking brat I’ve ever met.”

Yuri scoffs at her. He’s been more open with her in the last ten minutes than he’s ever been in the five years leading up to this. It’s a relief to have her on his side, but it took a lot out of him. He feels drained by it.

“Fuck off, hag,” he says.

“You talk big for a runt,” Mila counters.

She climbs out of her seat and ruffles his hair. When he smacks her hand away, she drapes her arms around his shoulders and gives him a tight squeeze. He feels her mouth on his cheek. She holds it there longer than necessary, breaking away with a loud smack.

“Clean up your shit,” she says. “Yakov’s going to be shouting for us soon.”

Yuri rolls his eyes again.

He’s grateful, at least, that she doesn’t push the issue, that she takes what he told her and considers it seriously, but doesn’t pester him about it further. It’s more than Yuri expected from a notorious gossip. Perhaps he was wrong to keep his silence around her before now. Perhaps he wasn’t giving her enough credit all along.

He watches her go, then returns to his phone to send another text to Otabek.

_‘Viktor’s not competing at Nationals_  
_They won’t let him as long as he’s coaching’_

Otabek responds in a matter of minutes.

_‘I figured as much’_

_‘Serves that fucker right,’_ Yuri says.

_‘Are you going to be pissed off if I give you some advice?’_

It takes a moment for Yuri to decide on a response. The question is a confusing one. What advice could he possibly need in this situation?

_‘No,’_ he says, because Otabek has never given him any reason to reject advice from him before.

_‘I know you’re pissed off at Viktor_  
_You don’t have to let that go_  
_But don’t let it get worse’_

Yuri’s frown becomes sullen. Given the topic, he should have expected something along those lines. It certainly isn’t out of place, but seeing it hurts to some extent, when all he wants is to complain and have someone agree with him.

He hasn’t told Otabek much about the situation. Viktor didn’t feature heavily in any of their conversations in Barcelona, though Yuri did give a brief summary of the events that occurred in Japan. The extent of what he shared was less than what he just told Mila. That Otabek can read the situation so easily in spite of that doesn’t come as much of a surprise. Otabek is observant. Between Yuri’s grumbling and the bits and pieces of information Otabek picked up in their time together, he must have been able to determine Yuri’s feelings on the matter on his own.

_‘What do you mean?’_ Yuri asks.

_‘This could get ugly_  
_And I know a lot of it seems unfair and it sucks_  
_But it’s going to get worse for you if things do get ugly’_

_‘And what?_  
_It won’t get worse for Viktor?’_

_‘Of course it will_  
_I just don’t think you care about anything getting worse for Viktor’_

Otabek isn’t wrong. Yuri wants Viktor to be disappointed. He wants Viktor to know what it’s like to be rejected, to come up against obstacles and feel frustrated by his inability to overcome them. He wants Viktor to face some actual repercussions for once. Viktor only has himself to blame for retiring so suddenly, then flying off to Japan without a second thought for what he was leaving behind. It was a completely arrogant assumption on Viktor’s part to think that he could compete while coaching.

More than anything, Yuri wants Viktor to regret it.

_‘But you care about your coaches and your other rink mates_  
_And I think you care about Yuuri Katsuki too_  
_It won’t be pretty for them either’_

Compassion is an unfamiliar emotion. Yuri doesn’t know that he likes the way his stomach twists when he’s forced to consider Yuuri Katsuki again.

_'It’s going to be difficult enough as it is for everyone to field the attention_  
_So try to keep the anger to yourself_  
_You want to rant to me that’s fine_  
_Rant to me all you want_  
_But don’t make it a public thing_  
_You don’t need the world to know you’re feuding with Viktor Nikiforov’_

Yuri knows Otabek has a point. Otabek is mature and wise, and even tempered enough to look at the situation rationally. Taking his advice would probably serve Yuri well.

Yet there is that obstinate part of Yuri, a pettiness he’s self-aware enough to recognize in himself, that wants to dismiss Otabek’s concerns.

He wouldn’t call the tension with Viktor a feud.

Not yet, at least.

With anyone else, Yuri might argue, but this relationship is too new to risk it just yet, so he texts back a short, _‘Ok’_

_‘Are you ok?’_ Otabek asks.

_‘Yeah I’m fine,’_ Yuri says. _‘Just want Nationals over and done with’_

_‘When do you leave tomorrow?’_

_‘Noon ish’_

Otabek sends him a thumbs up. _‘Rest up,’_ he says.

_‘Yeah yeah_  
_Got to go now_  
_Yakov’ll be shouting for me any minute’_

_‘Text me whenever you need’_

The offer is consoling enough to ease some of Yuri’s disappointment. He can’t remain bitter for long, when Otabek is so accommodating.

_'I will_  
_Thanks’_

He’s gone over the time allotted for his lunch break. Yakov must still be dealing with Viktor if he hasn’t come shouting for Yuri yet. Yuri takes a few extra minutes to finish eating, then gathers his things to head back to practice before Yakov or Lilia notice his absence.

There’s a moment of uncertainty, when he’s risen from his chair and turning for the door, that Yuri regards his phone in his hand. He gnaws on the corner of his bottom lip, mulling over his options. He wants validation, and he knows exactly how to get it. The problem is his own damned pride. He doesn’t want to open himself up to something he won’t be able to turn back from.

Hesitantly, Yuri pulls up his conversation with JJ.

_‘No Viktor at nationals,’_ he texts. _‘He can’t compete unless he ditches katsudon’_

He puts his phone away without waiting for a response. If he doesn’t acknowledge what he’s done, he can pretend he’s not fishing for sympathy and approval from someone he wouldn’t have wanted to accept it from a week ago.

After leaving the break room, Yuri doesn’t have any real need to go near Yakov’s office. It’s an easy enough place to avoid. There are shorter routes he can take, ones that don’t run the risk of Yakov noticing he’s late.

He makes his way toward it anyway.

With everyone else either hard at work or taking a lunch break, the halls in this part of the training complex are empty and quiet. The silence piques Yuri’s apprehension. He shoves his hands into his pockets, where they curl into loose fists.

Is it luck or misfortune that has Viktor leaving Yakov’s office as soon as Yuri turns onto the hall? It could be either. It’s what Yuri wants, deep down — to lay his eyes on Viktor while he has the chance, to see for himself how Viktor’s coping with disappointment, before Viktor leaves again.

There’s nothing in Viktor’s expression to betray his feelings, nothing in his posture to suggest that he might be troubled by the Federation’s decision, but that in itself is telling. His face is blank, devoid of either tension or ease. He’s careful while shutting the door to Yakov’s office; it barely makes a sound when it finally settles into place. Viktor pauses momentarily, not to look up and down the hallway, but to stare straight ahead, as if collecting his thoughts.

Yuri drags one of his feet along the floor, causing the sole of his shoe to squeak loudly enough to announce his presence.

Viktor turns toward the sound. There’s a very fleeting moment when their eyes meet, and they stare at one another emotionlessly. It’s quick to end, there and gone before Yuri even has the chance to register that it happened.

“Yurio!” Viktor offers him a cheerful greeting.

Yuri wants to walk by him without a word, wants to ignore him, give Viktor another taste of what it’s like to be rejected and overlooked. He would have, if Viktor hadn’t spoken at all.

Rage spurs Yuri to respond. He snaps, “That’s not my name.”

Viktor’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but rather than looking offended by Yuri’s tone, he seems confused.

“That’s not my name,” Yuri says. “The only people who are allowed to call me that are in Japan.”

If Viktor feels any shame, he doesn’t share it. His mouth curves into a playful smile.

“Train hard for Nationals,” he responds. “Everyone expects you to win now.”

_Now_. As if no one expected it when there was a chance Viktor might compete.

Viktor might not mean it as an insult. Yuri can never tell. He chooses to believe that’s exactly what it is. In his pockets, Yuri’s hands clench tighter. He lowers his head and glares up at Viktor through his hair. There’s so much fury in his eyes, no one else would mistake it for anything but unadulterated loathing.

Yuri would scream and rage, snap something insulting as usual, but the words spin around in his head too long and end up getting stuck in a throat gone tight. His chest _aches_ with the urge to spit his anger out. Yuri’s entire body grows tense, like he might spring into action at any moment, let his fists accomplish what his voice cannot. He’d give anything to force that smile off of Viktor’s face.

The opportunity is lost seconds later, with the _click-click-click_ of heels against the floor, and a calming hand against Yuri’s back.

“Yuri…” is all Lilia says.

Her voice is stern, but it is not a reprimand. When Yuri looks at her, Lilia is staring Viktor down. She remains as poised as always, unruffled but for the hard set of her eyes. There’s little in the way of hostility from her, only disapproval, but that in itself is enough. Viktor’s smile weakens until he looks uncertain, puzzled by Lilia’s silent condemnation.

It strikes Yuri for the first time that Lilia might have known Viktor when he was young. Viktor has been under Yakov’s tutelage for well over a decade. It would make sense to assume that Lilia has prior experience with Viktor’s behavior. Yuri should have considered that before, after everything he heard between Yakov and Lilia on the plane. Perhaps the thought never took root because Yakov was so quick to dismiss her concerns; he hasn’t objected to any of Lilia’s opinions or demands quite as vehemently as he did then.

Lilia must know at least as much about Viktor as she’s managed to learn about Yuri in the last eight months, and yet it’s _Yuri’s side_ she stands on.

Instinctively, Yuri turns toward her — not to withdraw from the confrontation, but to accept her support.

Viktor says nothing. He neither greets Lilia, nor adds anything further to his brief conversation with Yuri. He doesn’t appear unsettled by any of the tension. Rather, his expression continues its transition to cluelessness.

He can’t truly be so stupid. Yuri refuses to believe it. Viktor is not an unintelligent man; certainly he can figure out why Yuri and Lilia would meet him with so much displeasure. That Viktor continues to play the airhead pisses Yuri off. He can’t wholly agree with Mila’s observations concerning Viktor’s inability to connect with people. Viktor is flighty, not aloof or naive. The only conclusion that Yuri can draw, with all of his experiences, is that Viktor is simply too self-absorbed, or too attached to the idea of his own superiority, to understand why someone may not like him.

Lilia’s arm curls around Yuri’s shoulders. She proceeds to steer him down the hall. Yuri makes no effort to fight her. He allows himself to be guided, passing Viktor without meeting his eye.

If Viktor has it in him to abandon his commitments, ignore Yuri, and then make only a passing effort to work things out, Yuri can sure as hell give him a taste of his own damned medicine.

They don’t fall into their usual routine. Instead, Lilia takes Yuri straight to the dance studio, where she releases him and ushers him to the barre with instructions to change his shoes.

“Yakov will want me back,” Yuri says.

“Yakov will be busy managing Viktor’s mess,” Lilia counters. “We’ll wrap up early today.”

Yuri doesn’t argue, though the idea of cutting his day short with Nationals so close leaves him feeling uncertain. He could use the extra practice. Especially now, with the path to gold left wide open for him, he doesn’t want to allow any opportunities for failure. Slipping now would be unbearable. He has to be perfect. He has to prove himself, and put the unrest that followed his win at the Grand Prix Final behind him.

He has to be better than Viktor was, all those years ago when _he_ was the rising star.

“I hate him,” Yuri mutters.

Lilia’s brow lifts minutely. She doesn’t ask for clarification, merely waits for Yuri to explain himself.

“Viktor,” he says, though it must be obvious. “I hate him.”

It’s the only word he knows to describe what he feels. This is more than disillusionment, more than bitterness, more than spite. Yuri can’t suppress it, can’t think through it, can’t lessen the hurt. All the excuses that have been made for Viktor in the past, Yuri no longer believes them. He should have said as much in Barcelona, should have made himself more clear when Viktor voiced his empty platitudes. After explaining himself to Mila, verbalizing it all and facing it head on, this is the conclusion Yuri has come to.

Lilia’s expression doesn’t change. She doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask him why, or tell him that hate is too strong a word. She brings a hand to Yuri’s face and cups his cheek.

“He underestimates you,” she says. “Prove him wrong.”

He’ll prove them all wrong. Viktor. That tacky rumormonger of a reporter on the internet. All the others who’ve claimed he’s not good enough. Everyone who’s ever betrayed him, or doubted him, or belittled him — he’ll push, and he’ll fight, and he’ll win gold medal after gold medal until they shut up or change their tune. He hasn’t struggled and made sacrifices his entire life just to let a washed-up has-been and a few randos on the internet beat him down.

“To the barre,” Lilia says.

Yuri obeys.

He changes his shoes. He begins his exercises, listening to Lilia’s every demand. He executes each movement with rigorous precision, and when he meets his own gaze in the mirror, he thinks he might finally understand what Otabek meant about his soldier’s eyes. They burn bright with an inner fire made wild by daring and determination. He has never looked bolder. Soon, anyone who even briefly entertained the thought that he might have reached his peak in Barcelona will know that they were mistaken.

This is all he knows to do, all he knows to be. He’s fought from childhood, through exhaustion and misfortune, through tragedy and loneliness, all for the chance to show the world that he can be extraordinary. He can’t back down. Not now. Not _ever_. There are no other options for him. Nothing else in his life has ever managed to invoke such a sense of passion. The ice is all he is, all he wants to be. At the end of the day, it’s all he has. Without it, he would be nothing.

Lilia conveys her approval with gleaming eyes and small, satisfied smiles. She doesn’t offer a single lecture that day. Instead, Yuri earns several soft “very good”s and recurring “again”s touched far more with pride than with the usual dissatisfaction. He may not yet be the perfect prima ballerina she’s encouraged him to become, but her gratification leads Yuri to believe that he’s well on his way to succeeding. Whatever he’s missing, he’ll find it before long. Then he will be terrifying. The rest of the world will watch him and know they don’t stand a chance.

When the lesson is over, Yuri showers quickly. He scrubs the sweat from his skin, rinses it from his hair, lets the hot water soothe the dull ache in his muscles. He experiences a pleasant feeling of accomplishment. It dampens his frustrations, relieves him of his anger, lets him forget the distress he initially felt with Viktor’s return. None of those things matter. His stomach churns, but only with anticipation for the week to come.

Yekaterinburg is where he will finally make his stand.

Out of the shower, Yuri dries off and pulls his clothes on. He packs his things, and stands obediently while Lilia brushes the tangles from his damp hair.

“Headphones on,” she tells him once they’re prepared to leave.

Yuri doesn’t question her. He pulls out his phone and his earbuds, and he picks a song at random on their way out the door.

He understands the reason for it as soon as they’re outside.

There are cameras and reporters, already hungry for details about Viktor’s return. Their numbers are relatively few compared to the swarm Yuri expects to encounter over the next week, but they’re a nuisance all the same. Lilia doesn’t stop for any of them; Yuri follows her example. He pulls his hood over his hair, shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, and stares straight ahead.

They snap pictures. They call his name. They shout questions.

Yuri doesn’t hear any of it.

* * *

JJ’s response to Yuri’s message comes during the ride home.

_‘Babe why do you have to say it like that?_  
_This news should please me_  
_Now I just feel bad’_

Annoyance flares to life again. Why anyone would bother to feel bad about Viktor’s situation is beyond Yuri.

_‘Why?’_ he asks.

_‘Because Katsuki’s an okay guy,’_ JJ says. _‘And now he’s gonna lose his coach if Viktor really wants to compete again’_

It’s a tolerable answer. Better to sympathize with Yuuri than to waste time on Viktor. Resolved as he may be now, Yuri still experiences a twinge of pity. It would be a shame if Viktor stopped coaching and Yuuri became that sobbing mess in the bathroom again. He has it in him to be inspiring, if only Yuuri wasn’t so tied up in Viktor’s bullshit.

_‘He won’t be the first person Viktor’s ditched,’_ Yuri says.

_‘What a douche,’_ JJ concludes.

_‘Now you can hate him more_  
_On katsudon’s behalf’_

_‘I like how often you and I are on the same wavelength’_

Yuri snorts. _‘Ew,’_ he texts.

JJ sends him an emoji blowing a kiss.

_‘EW,’_ Yuri says again.

A few moments later, he gets a picture in response — JJ blowing a kiss to the camera.

_‘Fuck you,’_ Yuri replies.

Given JJ’s tendency to be suggestive and tease him by twisting his words, Yuri should have expected what comes next.

_‘You wanna?’_ JJ asks. He includes a winking emoji.

Yuri clamps his mouth shut, holds his breath, and forces back a sputter. He glances at Lilia out of the corner of his eye when he feels his face burn red, but she’s busy scrolling through her own phone.

_‘SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I WILL STOP TALKING TO YOU,’_ he types savagely, smashing his finger against the send button with a needless amount of force.

_‘Hahahahahaha_  
_You walked right into it babe’_

_‘Just fuck off_  
_I have shit to do’_

_‘Sure sure,’_ JJ says. _‘Ttyl’_

He sends another emoji to blow one final kiss. Yuri rolls his eyes and spends the rest of the ride home glaring out the window.

Lilia doesn’t drive and Yuri is still too young for it. Lilia also refuses to subject herself to public transportation, so she calls a driver whenever Yakov isn’t around. The first few times, it seemed like an unnecessary expense to Yuri, at least until the true extent of Lilia’s fame and wealth actually sank in. Lilia certainly has the money for it. Now, it’s one of Yuri’s favorite perks of being her protégé, since it means he doesn’t have to be around crowds of people.

He settles in comfortably and lets himself relax. Outside, there’s a shallow coat of dirty slush over the sidewalks. Flecks of snow pepper the windows. It might look charming to an outsider. To Yuri, it all looks rather bleak.

Cutting their day short means arriving home a few hours before dinner. It’s a bit disorienting. Yuri makes a slow climb up the stairs and drops down onto his bed, stretching out on his stomach with his arms wrapped around one of his pillows. As she passes Yuri’s room, Lilia calls a reminder for him to pack his bags, but Yuri waves her off with a groan.

He’s a little surprised that he actually manages to nap, considering how worked up he’s been, and how difficult sleep has been for him lately. Yuri drifts off quickly for once and doesn’t wake up for over an hour. When he returns to consciousness, he’s drooling into his pillow, and Katenka is a warm presence against his side.

Yuri turns to snuggle with her while he has the chance. He pets Katenka with one hand and scrolls through his phone with the other, catching up on social media. There isn’t anything of interest on Instagram, just the usual daily selfies from Phichit and Guang Hong, and a picture of Chris’s cat rolling around in an upended container of catnip that Yuri likes but doesn’t comment on.

Twitter is where he finds the drama. It comes in the form of a statement tweeted by Viktor thirty minutes before. 

> **viktor @viktornikiforov**  
>  Sad that I won’t defend my title at Nationals this year, but I respect the Federation’s decision and look forward to a return next season!

Yuri rolls his eyes and scowls.

The news that Viktor won't be competing at Nationals broke about twenty minutes before that. As a result, Yuri can’t say for certain whether or not Viktor’s tweet is laced with latent bitterness. If Viktor broke the news himself, it would have been obvious, but he waited to release an official statement of his own until the media dropped the story. Whatever tone Viktor might have intended with his tweet is lost. It comes off as understanding and respectful.

He’s trending already, of course. Not by any significant number of tweets just yet, but Yuri expects the couple of thousand to increase over the next twenty-four hours, as the news continues to spread throughout the world. Viktor’s massive number of fans will no doubt be talking about it during the entire week of Nationals.

Yuri looks through the comments on Viktor’s tweet. Most of them are discontent. One of them actually calls Viktor out for retiring so abruptly.

Clicking on the “Viktor Nikiforov” trend brings up numerous articles and opinionated tweets.

> _“Awwww was really looking forward to watching Viktor Nikiforov skate again! :(”_
> 
> _“If Viktor Nikiforov wanted to compete for Russia, maybe he shouldn’t have left to coach a subpar skater from Japan.”_
> 
> _“Viktor Nikiforov should have never retired.”_
> 
> _“Who here thinks Viktor Nikiforov’s going to ditch the boyfriend finally?”_
> 
> _“Plisetsky and Katsuki might have broken his sp and fs records, but they’re nowhere close to Viktor Nikiforov’s caliber.”_

Yuri’s scowl darkens. He throws his phone over the side of the bed, where it makes a harmless fall onto the decorative rug.

All of this is Viktor’s fault. The drama could have been avoided entirely if Viktor had only waited until the Grand Prix Final was over to talk to Yakov — alone, without the nosy press around to overhear their conversation backstage. Viktor either didn’t think it through or didn’t care about the outcome. Yuri thinks he has enough evidence at this point to indicate that it was the latter rather than the former.

Regardless, the Federation made the right call, in Yuri’s opinion. Viktor was an idiot to think otherwise.

A little while later, with dinner time fast approaching, Yuri scoops Katenka into his arms before rolling out of bed. He retrieves his phone and leaves his room to make his way back downstairs.

The television is on in the main sitting area. Yuri glances at it long enough to see that Viktor is considered breaking news in the world of sports. Rather than further immerse himself into it right away, Yuri turns his back on the discourse and drifts into the kitchen.

He finds Lilia preparing their food with a pinched look on her face.

“You look a mess,” she tells him.

Yuri shrugs, completely indifferent to his tangled hair and the lines pressed onto the side of his face by his pillow. He shuffles around Lilia to feed Katenka a few treats, before refilling her food and water bowls.

They settle together in the sitting area to eat their dinner in front of the television — a rare event unless Yuri eats alone. Snacks are one thing, but Lilia is usually a stickler for eating their meals at the dining table. Tonight, she is the first to take her place on the couch, her posture as prim and proper as always even with a plate of food in her lap. She watches the news with a glimmer of annoyance in her eye, though she reacts to the broadcast with little more than a frown.

Yuri sits on the floor by the coffee table and picks at his food, too distracted and irritated to eat with his usual gusto. His phone vibrates a few times throughout dinner. Lilia either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care to stop him from texting while they eat.

_‘This is somehow more extensive than I thought it would be,’_ Otabek says.

Yuri snorts quietly. _‘Never underestimate the media circus Viktor can create,’_ he replies.

_‘Are you still okay?’_

The concern is touching, even if there’s still a part of Yuri that feels the slightest bit betrayed by Otabek’s advice earlier.

_‘Yeah,’_ Yuri says. _‘This isn’t anything new’_

_‘I’m turning in,’_ Otabek tells him. _‘Text in the morning?’_

Yuri can’t even be angry. He wants to be, because this situation sucks and he wants Otabek to be as troubled by it as he is himself, but then there’s this serenity Otabek projects, this comfort Yuri feared might be left behind in Barcelona, carried across the distance now by a simple text offering companionship. Maybe Otabek doesn’t agree with Yuri’s impulse to dive right into to the drama, but he’s still there with his calm voice and a sturdy shoulder to lean on when Yuri needs it.

_‘Yeah,’_ Yuri says again. _‘Night Beka’_

Mila texts him too, when Yuri takes a break from eating to slip Katenka a few pieces of chicken.

_‘So this is kind of nuts,’_ she says.

_‘You’re surprised?’_ Yuri asks.

_‘Not in the least’_

_‘It’s only going to get worse’_

Mila sends him an emoji rolling its eyes. _‘Here I was hoping nationals would be nice and quiet this year’_

The news coverage is endless. If it isn’t sports commentators squabbling over the Federation’s decision, it’s video clips of Viktor’s best performances, photographs of Viktor on three different Olympic podiums — Turin, Vancouver, Sochi — followed by _more_ squabbling as one critic after another argues for or against Viktor. For maybe five minutes, the commentators pause to discuss those skaters that actually _will_ be competing at Nationals, and Yuri suddenly sees himself on the screen, looking sullen on the podium at the Grand Prix Final.

“With Viktor Nikiforov’s return to competition temporarily put on hold,” one voice observes, “fifteen-year-old Yuri Plisetsky becomes the odds-on favorite to take gold at the National Championships.”

Fury bubbles deep in Yuri’s chest; his heart stutters, then throbs with it. His appetite tanks. He doesn’t even taste the last few bites, just forces it down his throat before dropping his fork onto his plate and pushing it away. Yuri can’t even distract himself with his phone, because everything there is about Viktor, too.

Yakov returns home when Lilia has cleared their plates away. He complains about the reporters outside the training complex, then grumbles about the added scrutiny they’ll all likely be receiving in Yekaterinburg. When Yuri can tell that Yakov means to give him a preemptive lecture about his behavior, he escapes upstairs. Lilia calls after him to remind him to pack his bags again. Yuri kicks his things around instead, knocking over a basket of laundry he did yesterday in preparation for the week to come.

Yuri considers venting to Otabek, but it’s ten at night in Almaty now. Otabek might have told Yuri to text him whenever he needed, but Yuri doesn’t know if that offer applies while Otabek sleeps. He wants to rant and rave, but he also doesn’t want to be a douchebag about it when Otabek has already been so supportive.

Selfishness is an easy thing for Yuri to give into. He restrains it with some difficulty, pulling up his conversation with Otabek only to swipe out of it soon after.

It can wait until morning, Yuri tells himself.

He tries to soothe his temper with a bath. The scalding water is a suitable distraction at first. He sinks into it slowly, allowing his skin to become accustomed to the burn. It soon cools to a more tolerable temperature. Yuri even tries the lavender bath oil Lilia insists will relieve stress and help him sleep, but aside from the pleasant smell, Yuri doesn’t notice any difference.

He is miserable. Worse, he knows he will continue to be miserable for the rest of the week. There will be endless questions, and infuriating comments made on a daily basis. What was supposed to be _Yuri’s_ moment has once again been stolen away by Viktor. That Yuri knew it would come this time makes no difference. The more it happens, the harder Yuri has to work to prove himself.

Hard work doesn't scare him. The outcome does, when he already feels stretched thin.

Yuri closes his eyes and dips under the water. Beneath the surface, it’s dark and quiet. Nothing else exists but the water in his ears and the burn of his chest while he holds his breath. Yuri releases the air from his lungs in a slow stream, so he can listen to the sound of the bubbles instead of the voice of outrage in his head. When his lungs are empty, he floats low, and he ignores the instinct to breathe.

There’s a muffled rumbling overhead. It takes a few moments for Yuri to recognize it as his phone, vibrating against the tray across the tub.

Lack of oxygen leaves Yuri dizzy when he emerges from the water. He leans against the back of the tub to catch his breath, pushing his wet hair out of his face before reaching for a towel to dry his hands.

A text waits for him.

_‘Hey little bit’_

Yuri stares at the screen. On any other night, he might respond as normal — text back, let JJ ask his question, swear at him when appropriate, then go through the rest of the night as routinely as he has since this began after Barcelona.

What happens instead occurs purely on an automatic impulse Yuri doesn’t yet understand.

_‘What are you doing right now?’_ he responds.

_‘Eating lunch,’_ JJ says. _‘Why?’_

Yuri doesn’t think, doesn’t second guess his actions at all. He pulls up JJ’s contact and calls him.

The line rings three times before JJ answers. When he does, he draws his greeting out — a long, confused, “Heeeey.”

Yuri immediately launches into a complaint. “No one thinks I could win if Viktor was competing.”

“What?”

“That’s all anyone will talk about.”

“What do you mean?” JJ asks. There’s confusion in his voice still, but patience, too.

“On the news,” Yuri explains. “That’s what people are saying. I’m only the favorite to win because Viktor’s not competing.”

“That’s bullshit,” JJ says.

It’s the exact sentiment Yuri wants to hear, and the reason his instincts led him to make the call in the first place. He knew what sort of response he would get. It’s only been a week since they left Barcelona, and Yuri has already grown accustomed to the high esteem with which JJ apparently regards him, to this partnership they’ve only just begun to develop as their respective rivalries with Viktor escalate further than the rivalry between themselves.

“Is it?” Yuri asks, low and aching — desperate for reassurance, _needing it_ in order to maintain the resolve that filled him only hours before.

That’s the worst part of all of this, that he can experience such a rush of confidence, put all of his energies into the conviction to succeed, only for it to slip away from him every time a tiny shred of uncertainty seeps through the anger he masks it with.

“Is that what you think?” JJ counters. “That you couldn’t win if Viktor was competing?”

“What the fuck does it matter what I think?” Yuri snaps.

“Because I’m trying to figure out if you’re upset that other people doubt you, or because you’re doubting yourself.”

The answer is both, but Yuri doesn’t want to admit that he has his own doubts. Doing so, revealing his weaknesses, might leave him vulnerable.

He doesn’t want to _be_ vulnerable. He wants to be the relentless force that powered through the Grand Prix series. He can’t afford to be anything else.

“Just tell me if you really think it’s bullshit,” Yuri demands.

“Of course I do,” JJ says. He doesn’t take any time at all to think it through.

“Why?” Yuri asks.

“Because Viktor hasn’t skated competitively since the end of March.”

Yuri bristles with defensiveness. “So you’re saying I’d only win because he’s out of practice.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“That’s what it sounds like,” Yuri says.

“What I’m trying to say is that it would be a helluva lot easier under these circumstances,” JJ explains.

“I’m not looking for an easy win.”

What would that accomplish? Absolutely nothing.

Bitter though Yuri is, anxious though he might be to see Viktor get what’s coming for him, there would be no satisfaction in an easy win. He would always know that Viktor wasn’t at his best. Without that, how could Yuri ever claim to be better than him?

“I didn’t think you were,” JJ says. Yuri hears him draw a breath and let it out on a sigh. “I don’t know what to say that isn’t going to upset you.”

“Just tell me the truth.”

JJ takes his time responding. The line is quiet too long for Yuri’s liking. He leans his head back against the tub and closes his eyes again, breathing deep and slow to curb his impatience.

Finally, JJ says, “If Viktor was in top form, it’d be a lot more difficult.”

Yuri flinches, more hurt by the honesty than he thought he’d be.

“Because I’m not good enough,” he says.

“Babe, come on,” JJ gently argues. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“He has five quads,” Yuri observes. He ignores the strain in his own voice, how troubled he sounds as he considers his chances.

“He does,” JJ agrees.

“I couldn’t break his free skate record,” Yuri continues.

“Maybe not yet.”

Yuri isn’t sure how to continue. He didn’t think this conversation through to begin with; he’s navigating unfamiliar ground with JJ, and he already feels out of his depth. For a moment, he contemplates hanging up, dropping the conversation where it is for the sake of returning to the informal texting they were engaging in before. Something stops him from doing that, keeps him frozen in place with the phone against his ear, waiting for JJ to say something to somehow take the hurt away.

Why he’s even entertained that thought, Yuri has no idea.

There are cracks forming in his defenses, miniature fissures Yuri never notices until it’s too late to start patching them up. Each positive interaction, each kind word, all of the ridiculous compliments JJ throws at him each morning — every bit of it seeps into the chinks in Yuri’s armor, forcing the gaps wider, leaving him even more susceptible than he was before. Denial can’t stop it, and resentment lost its power as a safeguard days ago.

“Yuri,” JJ says, just before the silence grows uncomfortable, “you don’t have to move so fast.”

Yuri takes a measured breath. He sinks a little further into the water as he releases it, and he asks, “What are you talking about?”

“I just feel like you’re trying to take on too much,” JJ clarifies. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. Your expectations are… well, I don’t think they’re impossible to meet in the long term, but I also don’t think you’re thinking long term. You want it all now now now.”

JJ’s voice remains gentle. He must want to ensure that Yuri doesn’t misinterpret what he’s saying in a negative way. Yuri makes an attempt to do just that, but no matter how hard he tries to dredge up the hatred he used to feel, he comes up empty handed. Like this, without the teasing lilt that often accompanies JJ’s speech, his voice is almost pleasing to the ear.

“What’s wrong with that?” Yuri asks — too quiet to be appropriately accusatory.

He wants JJ to say “nothing,” to tell him that he isn’t wrong to feel this way, that he isn’t hurting himself by being so single-minded.

Instead, JJ says, “You’re fifteen.”

As if it’s a factor Yuri should keep in mind, as if Yuri hasn’t had enough people clamoring about his age already.

Age matters, to an extent. Yuri knows it does, whether he wants to admit it or not. He would rather pretend otherwise, would rather go about things without taking his age into account at all. Perhaps it’s a result of being on his own so early in life, taking care of himself instead of relying on other people to satisfy his basic needs. Perhaps it’s simply a part of who he is, a streak of independence he’s maintained since childhood. Yuri appreciates the parts of youth that aid his image, that lead others to admire his accomplishments. Yet, more often, his age becomes something of a burden.

Yakov has spent more time than either of them care for trying to hold Yuri back, placing restrictions on him that, ultimately, serve to Yuri’s benefit. He has reminded Yuri, time and time again, of the consequences he risks by behaving so recklessly.

Yuri still has not taken the lectures to heart. He wants to learn more. He wants to _challenge_ himself, take on the burden of more difficult programs so as to make himself stronger, push himself further ahead of his competition. When there’s a chance that his success might not last, why shouldn’t he press every advantage to its limit? Why shouldn’t he take every opportunity he has to make the most of the one thing in his life he has a talent and a passion for?

“It’s your first year in the senior division,” JJ continues. “What you did at the Final was amazing. Have you even taken the time to reflect on that? To let yourself be proud?”

Of course he hasn’t. What is there for him to be proud of?

After his short program, yes, he was pleased. Yuri was happy with his score. It was satisfying, taking a program he hates and breaking Viktor’s record with it. But the Final wasn’t a perfect victory. Something in him slipped during the free skate, some part of him loosened, and the win he put so much time and energy into fighting for ended up feeling hollow. The program he felt most confident about going into the Final wound up being the program that nearly cost him the gold.

“I wouldn’t have won if Katsudon was better in the short program,” Yuri says, voice gone monotone with disappointment.

JJ doesn’t deny it.

Yuri goes on, “If you hadn’t fucked up, I-”

That’s where JJ cuts him off. “If you never let yourself enjoy the moments you have, you’re never going to be satisfied with anything,” he says.

“I only had that moment because you and Katsudon weren’t at your best,” Yuri argues.

Even when he tries to dredge up the emotions he experienced in the wake of his short program, they’re tarnished now the more he considers what transpired at the Final. Yuuri Katsuki has it in him to set a record of his own; he could do it again, finally master his short program and exceed Yuri before Yuri even has the chance to face him again.

And JJ — he’s consistently proven himself to be one of the biggest threats. He has all the makings of a star, if only he could temper his arrogance and build up a stronger resistance to the pressure.

“Were _you_ at your best?” JJ asks.

Yuri swallows through the tightness in his throat instead of answering.

“Do you think that’s the best you can do?” JJ tries again.

“No,” Yuri says, short and clipped.

“Okay, so slow down,” JJ says. “Breathe. You have time to figure shit out. Viktor’s not going to be at Nationals.”

“That’s all anyone cares about. That’s all anyone will be talking about. Everything’s always about Viktor.”

“Then take this opportunity to make it about you.”

Yuri’s next inhale is a little shaky. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know what the right answer to that question is,” JJ says. “All I can tell you is what I’d do.”

“And what’s that?”

He can hear the smile in JJ’s voice when JJ replies, “Work on my programs until I can get the most out of them, and summon the JJ Girls.”

Yuri scoffs. If his eyes were open, he would roll them. “How the fuck would your fans be able to help?”

“Aside from giving me a burst of confidence when I need it?”

Yuri tilts his head further back against the edge of the tub, languishing dramatically as he makes a softly disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

It must be audible over the phone, because JJ chuckles quietly. “I might be the King, but I can’t defend my crown without my loyal knights in the field,” he says.

“That’s so much bullshit.”

“Is it? Look at what happened with Liam Morrison. I had one short Twitter exchange with him, and within hours our fans took care of the rest.”

“So?” Yuri scoffs again. “What, you want me to get the Angels mad that people are underestimating me?”

“They’re probably already mad. You’ve got some extremely dedicated fans all around the world, and you’re seriously underutilizing them.”

“They’re annoying.”

“Why?” JJ asks. He sounds genuinely confused, like he doesn’t understand why anyone would dislike some of their fans.

But then JJ’s a pompous piece of shit. He probably delights in all the attention.

Yuri sneers. “Because they’re always screaming and squealing. They want to touch me and they follow me around everywhere.”

“I’m not going to pretend like there won’t always be people like that,” JJ says, with an equal mix of humor and empathy, “but I bet you could get most of them to settle down if you let them know those things bother you.”

“Great. I’ll tell them to fuck off then.”

JJ laughs. Yuri doesn’t know what part of that comment was funny. He wasn’t joking.

“That would achieve the exact opposite of what you want them to do for you,” JJ says.

“What then?” Yuri asks.

“You let-”

“ _Yuri_.”

It’s Lilia’s voice that interrupts them. Given that Yuri’s evenings are as routine as his days, he should have expected the intrusion. He would have, if he’d been paying any attention to the time. Instead, Yuri startles and jumps. His eyes, closed for most of the conversation, pop back open in an instant. There’s a splash as he slips during his struggle to right himself. One knee rises too quickly and bangs against the narrow wooden tray hanging over the tub.

“Ow! _Fucker_!”

“You okay?” JJ asks.

“Yes,” Yuri snaps. “Shut the fuck up.”

Lilia stands in the doorway looking unimpressed. In her hands is a mug of tea and a snack. A single thin brow rises into a arch. Accompanied by a rigid frown, the expression is likely meant as a reprimand for his language.

Yuri scowls at her. With a little more caution this time, he finishes pulling his knees up to his chest. Lilia has seen him in such varied states of undress, always with an air of cold indifference, that Yuri isn’t terribly concerned about preserving his modesty around her, but her sudden arrival kicks his paranoia into gear. He combats it by glaring and curling up defensively.

“It’s getting late,” she says. She steps into the bathroom to set the tea and snack onto the tub tray.

“I’m almost finished,” Yuri argues.

There’s a minute upward shift to Lilia’s brow, but she doesn’t otherwise react. “Bring those down when you’re done.”

“ _Okay_.”

“You haven’t packed yet,” she observes.

“I’ll do it after,” Yuri says.

Lilia doesn’t look appeased. She gives him one last reproachful look before departing.

Yuri waits until he can hear her footsteps fade away out in the hall before he settles back against the tub again.

His heart is racing. The discomfort of it rises into his throat. Yuri swallows hard to clear it. That unsettling feeling is back — the one he always experiences when he knows he's done something wrong. He can’t think of anything he’s done to warrant it now. Lilia might be strict, but she doesn’t govern who he’s allowed to speak to on the phone.

Talking to JJ still feels inappropriate somehow. Yuri immediately casts his memory back over the conversation to determine what Lilia might have overheard, but he’s too out of sorts to think clearly.

“What was that?” JJ asks.

“Lilia,” Yuri responds. There’s even more strain in his voice than there was before.

“Yeah, I figured that much.”

There’s a moment of silence. Yuri stares at his camomile tea. The mug has a cat on the face of it. The cat’s tail curls into the handle.

When Yuri makes no effort to speak, JJ continues, “So am I going crazy or did I hear water? Are you in the bath?”

“Yes,” Yuri answers, because it’s short and easy to spit out.

“You called me from the bath,” JJ says — slowly, like he’s having trouble believing it. Then he asks, “ _Why_?”

“I’m always in the bath when you text me at night.”

“But you called me this time.”

“So?”

JJ’s next chuckle could be compared to some of Mila’s suggestive giggles. “If you were anyone else in any other situation, that’d be kind of hot,” he says.

Heat suffuses Yuri’s face, rapid enough that he can pretend it’s caused entirely by anger and annoyance. “Fuck off!”

“I’m just saying.”

“You fucking pervert,” Yuri snarls.

JJ’s chuckles deepen. His voice is tinged with more amusement when he says, “I’m not the one who’s naked right now.”

“No, but you’re the one making it out to be something indecent.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, babe. I’m flattered.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Yuri counters. “So what if I’m in the fucking bath? We’re on the phone. You can’t even see me.”

“Yeah, but I can imagine…”

“ _Don’t_ , you stupid fuck!”

JJ descends into a full blown fit of laughter — loud and obnoxious, the kind Yuri resents the most. He imagines JJ with his head thrown back, a stupid grin stretched wide across his face, gracelessly falling out of whatever chair he was sitting in to eat his lunch. Without a doubt, he’s attracting attention on the other end of the line. The thought intensifies the color in Yuri’s face. There are quiet sounds in the background that might be whispers, but could just as easily be a figment of his imagination.

“I hate you,” Yuri says. When JJ doesn’t stop, he adds, “You disgust me.”

Somehow, JJ manages to rein it in. The volume of his laughter decreases until he’s snickering quietly. “As if you’ve never had any impure thoughts.”

“Does murder count?”

“I was actually thinking something a little sexier than that.”

“You’re a whore.”

JJ releases another loud bark, but it’s shorter than the rest. “Why? Because I said something mildly suggestive?”

“There’s also the inappropriate pictures you post online. And the fact that you fuck around.”

“Hey, I was drunk when I posted those pictures,” JJ argues, but there’s no heat in his voice. Yuri doesn’t need to see JJ’s face to know that he’s still grinning.

“That changes nothing,” Yuri says.

“Also, I haven’t fucked around in years.”

“Bullshit. You _said_ you were.”

“I said I’m probably going to _now_ ,” JJ corrects him, “not that I’ve been doing it this whole time. I’ve been dating Izzy since I was seventeen.”

“So?”

“So we were in a committed relationship.”

“Then explain all the shit about you online,” Yuri says.

“You mean the shit Liam Morrison writes?” JJ asks.

“You’re saying absolutely none of it’s true?”

“Yeah, most of it’s complete bullshit,” JJ says. If the subject annoys him at all in that moment, he doesn’t express it. “But I also haven’t read all of it, so I can’t promise there isn’t a small grain of truth buried in there somewhere.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and reaches for his tea. He takes a cautious sip and, finding the temperature bearable, swallows a mouthful instead of commenting further.

“What’s with you these last two days anyway?” JJ questions him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your completely random interest in my sex life.”

“I have no interest in your sex life,” Yuri says.

“Yeah, you do. You wouldn’t keep harassing me about it if you didn’t. It bothers you.”

Yuri scowls again and snaps, “When your horny rinkmates talk about sex like it’s so fucking important, but then go off and fuck people they know nothing about, and bitch and moan to you about the outcome like it isn’t their own fucking fault for being careless, and the douchebag who promised to choreograph your senior debut fucks off to Japan because he wants some dick, you’d be pretty fucking bothered by it too.”

It’s out of his mouth before he has a chance to consider holding it in. The words are spat with increasing hostility. They come from a place of confusion and vulnerability. Sex is not a subject in which Yuri feels he is uninformed, yet he lacks any practical knowledge, and he has no intention of acquiring any. He doesn’t resent his own lack of interest, or worry about what it might mean about him as a person, but he is aware that others often view it as hesitancy or modesty instead of apathy. As a result, Yuri tends to feel misunderstood. Even in the event that someone listens without teasing him, he doesn’t know how to explain any of it in a way they might understand.

None of his frustrations are eased in the aftermath of his rant. There’s another period of silence. This one is more uncomfortable than the last. Yuri doesn’t know what JJ’s thinking and can’t predict a response, but he prepares himself for something taunting or snide.

“I get so distracted by your eyes, sometimes I forget you’ve got a mouth on you,” JJ eventually says. There’s something light about his tone that makes him seem admiring instead of amused.

Yuri forces out a rough, “Fuck off.”

“You know none of that has anything to do with me.”

“Of course it doesn’t.”

“So then why does what I choose to do piss you off so much?”

“Because it’s fucking pointless,” Yuri says. “It’s a stupid distraction.”

“Maybe I need the distraction.”

Yuri almost asks, “From what?” He closes his mouth around the question and stares intently into the water while he works to restrain his curiosity. The answer is obvious. JJ wants to be distracted from Isabella. Hearing that confirmed will only derail the conversation. They’ve gotten off track enough as it is.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Yuri says.

“Okay,” JJ agrees. “I shouldn’t’ve brought it up anyway. You’re just so easy to tease sometimes.”

“Have you ever stopped to think we might get along better if you didn’t tease me as much?”

“You don’t think we’re getting along now?”

Yuri doesn’t hesitate before answering, “No.”

“We’re having a pretty decent conversation,” JJ says.

“We _were_. Until you had to make a big fucking deal about me being in the bath.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll shut my mouth and we can switch back to what we were talking about before.”

“Fine,” Yuri says.

Yet another moment of silence settles over them. This one passes with an awkwardness the rest weren’t subject to. JJ seems to have lost his train of thought. Either that, or he has nothing to say that isn’t another joke. Yuri feels conspicuous in the bath. His own nudity wasn’t much of a concern until it suddenly mattered. Now that JJ has decided it’s worth teasing him over, it’s become a source of discomfort.

“But I’m getting out first,” Yuri adds. “The water’s barely warm anymore.”

“Okay,” JJ says.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut until I tell you to talk,” Yuri warns him.

“Right. Got it.”

Yuri puts his mug of tea back onto the tray. Carefully, he climbs out of the tub and pulls the drain, then sets his phone out of the way on the counter while he dries himself off. Purposefully taking his time, forcing JJ to wait on him, allows Yuri to regain some semblance of control over the situation. He wrings his hair out more thoroughly than usual, so it no longer drips water down his back. He puts an uncharacteristic amount of care into applying moisturizer, and he’s slow to pull on his clothes after.

He could switch to speakerphone and continue the conversation without such an uncomfortably long pause. Yuri expects JJ might be using this opportunity to craft another method of teasing him. In the end, he decides against it. This situation is odd enough. Yuri could use a break from JJ’s voice before diving right back into the exchange.

Once he’s taken the time to bring his tea and snack into his bedroom, Yuri returns for his phone. He doesn’t bring it to his ear again until he’s settled on the edge of his bed.

“Okay,” he says. “Talk.”

“What am I supposed to be saying?” JJ asks.

“How do I get my fans to back off while keeping them invested in my career?”

“Oh, right. You let them know you.”

“They _do_ know me,” Yuri argues. “They wouldn’t be fans if they didn’t.”

“They know you’re cute,” JJ says. Somehow, his voice doesn’t sound demeaning when he says it. He states it like a fact. “They know you’re grouchy, and they know you have a cat. That’s it. That’s all anyone knows about you. That’s all I knew about you before Barcelona.”

“You must not be paying attention.”

“Babe, do you even realize how closed off you are from people?”

Yuri doesn’t answer.

Of course he knows it. He closes himself off on purpose. Privacy isn’t something he’s always afforded, but he values however much he can get. Remaining aloof is the only way he knows how to protect himself when the world seems so determined to tear him down. Opening up means exposing the parts of himself he isn’t completely comfortable with. It means unraveling his defenses and unveiling his weaknesses to people he doesn’t like or trust — people who can hurt him, whether he likes to admit it or not.

Yet he’s already bared a piece of himself tonight simply by calling JJ instead of leaving their conversations to text messages.

“I can count the things I know about you on one hand,” JJ continues. “Except I _do_ know your measurements, which would be kind of creepy if I didn’t plan on using them for something that isn’t creepy at all.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what the fuck that is?” Yuri asks him.

“You’ll have to make it to Worlds if you want to find out.”

Yuri scoffs impatiently but doesn’t press the issue.

“Anyway,” JJ says, “so the fact that you have so many fans when you don’t make a point of cultivating a fanbase is kind of amazing.”

“My career speaks for itself.”

“Yeah, but your career’s not going to defend you when some douchebag starts launching personal attacks, and if your fans don’t know much about you, anything anyone else says about you won’t seem that hard to believe.”

“So what do I do?” Yuri demands.

“Interact with them more,” JJ replies.

“Fuck no,” Yuri says. He doesn’t even have to consider it before refusing. “They’re all so fucking obnoxious.”

“What’s the most obnoxious thing about them?” JJ asks. “The squealing, the touching, or the stalking?”

“All of it.”

“But which one bothers you the most?”

Unsure how he’s supposed to choose, Yuri falls silent again.

Over the years, there’s been little about his fans that he can say he likes, other than the fact that they’re his fans. Either he feels awkward and annoyed when he’s in their company, or they don’t interest him at all. He’s looked through more fan accounts than he cares to admit in an attempt to understand their perspective, but their obsessions confuse him as much as they make him uncomfortable.

For fuck’s sake, there’s an entire blog dedicated to candid pictures of his _stomach_. Apparently, Yuri fiddles with his shirt during practices, either to soak up sweat or by some nervous habit Yuri wasn’t even aware of until he found the blog. He’s seen his fans post full-length analyses and engage in actual debates about the mannerism. They try to decode his behavior. Some of them even offer legitimate psychological sources to back up their arguments.

They post reaction videos when he performs. Try as he might to find them amusing, Yuri doesn’t understand the point of them. There are so many, one after the other, and most of them involve a fair bit of high pitched squealing. How anyone can make it through a single one without finding the whole thing tedious is beyond him. They post discussion videos, too, where they squeal some more and review their opinions at length. After the first several of them, Yuri came to the conclusion that his fans simply like to listen to themselves talk.

They’re even louder in person. They scream their excitement whenever he’s in the general vicinity, with their flags and their fans and their cat ears at the ready. Yuri isn’t even that famous. He’s not like Viktor, with his modeling experience, television appearances, and numerous international endorsement deals, or like JJ, who has experience with the same, with the addition of his band, his clothing line, and his charitable contributions, and all of the high profile connections that come along with those. They are much different athletes than Yuri’s limited experience has allowed him to become; he’s virtually unknown outside of the figure skating community. Yet by the reactions of his fans, one might assume he was a movie star.

They shout for his attention. They clamor for photographs. Some of them want to date him. Just as many of them want to see him date someone else. They try to touch him when he draws close. They follow him from city to city, scrutinizing his every move. They pick blond hairs off of the fucking street and debate about whether or not they’re his.

For a group of people who call themselves “Angels,” there’s really nothing angelic about them, in Yuri’s opinion.

Mila says it’s because they’re young, but Yuri doesn’t buy that as an acceptable excuse. A majority of them are around his age, give or take a few years. Yuri would never even consider doing half the things they get up to as of means of proving their love for him.

“The touching,” he finally says.

Annoying as all the noise is, putting on a pair of headphones when he’s in public solves that problem easily enough.

“Okay, so when they touch you, politely ask them not to,” JJ says. “Let them know it makes you uncomfortable, in as kind a way as it’s possible for you to manage. I can guarantee most of them will be reasonable human beings who apologize and give you your space.”

“Bullshit,” Yuri counters. “There’s no way it’s that easy.”

“I didn’t say there’d be a rapid improvement. But I mean, generally the more people there are who know that you don’t want to be touched, the less it’s going to happen.”

Reaching for his tea, Yuri asks, “And the stalking?”

“Find some way to let them know you value your privacy.”

“Avoiding them isn’t enough?”

JJ laughs airily. “Nah, I think some of them start to think of it like it’s a game,” he says. “You’re not going to be able to stop all of them, but in my experience, it gets a little easier to handle when they know just enough about you to feel connected to you.”

“I guess,” Yuri says, though he doesn’t necessarily agree.

“After that you just keep them invested by sharing bits and pieces of yourself every once in a while, or doing something that makes them feel like you’re interacting with them.”

“Like what?”

“Off the top of my head? They seem to dig wearing the cat ears,” JJ observes. “Probably because that’s all they have to go on. So put on a pair every once in a while. Take a selfie. Simple things like that. See what gets them excited and go from there.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh into his tea. “Fine.”

“The more they know about you, the more they’re able to relate to you, and the more they relate to you, the harder they’re going to fight for you when bullshit happens.”

“So basically what you’re telling me is that I should manipulate them.”

There’s a long pause. Amusement curls Yuri’s mouth. Though no one else is around to witness it, he still hides it behind a sip of tea.

“I meeeaaan,” JJ begins. He sounds guilty when he drags it out like that. “I guess you could look at it that way. You’d just be more friendly about it when you do.”

“They’re not my friends,” Yuri argues.

“But they love you, and they’ll defend you and support you when everything else sucks.”

Aggravation vibrates through the back of Yuri’s throat. Thankful as he is to have fans who acknowledge his talent, he doesn’t understand why a stranger would claim to love someone they don’t even know.

JJ’s voice gains a teasing edge when he says, “You’re only the Queen as long as your subjects are loyal to you.”

Yuri snorts but chooses to sip his tea again rather than counter the statement.

“They’re going to like the tiara picture whenever we get around to doing that,” JJ continues.

“You have to actually buy me a tiara first,” Yuri challenges him.

“Someone’s impatient.”

“Fuck off.”

“Give me a week. I’ll have one for you by the time Russian Nationals are over,” JJ says.

“You’ve said it. Now you can’t take it back.”

“I promise.”

Yuri doesn’t want to accept JJ’s word, because promises have been broken before. He’s been lied to and deceived, rejected, and abandoned by people who should have cared. In his life, he’s come to the conclusion that most people have selfish motivations. Yuri’s stopped trusting that anyone truly cares, outside of the small circle he’s begun to surround himself with.

In the end, it’s just a tiara — a triviality compared to what Viktor committed to, meant for nothing more than a laugh.

But there’s a part of him, small and timid though it may be right now, that wants to believe JJ means it.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?” JJ asks when Yuri fails to respond. “Isn’t it getting late there?”

“It’s eight at night,” Yuri says. “I wouldn’t call that late.”

“You always tell me you’re going to sleep around now, though.”

Yuri ignores the observation and says, “What were you going to ask me before?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you text me at night, you always ask me something.”

“Oh. Which do you like better, zip up hoodies or pullovers?”

Yuri’s face creases with disgust. “I don’t want a JJ Style hoodie.”

“I never said anything about a JJ Style hoodie,” JJ says. He doesn’t sound convincing at all.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Yuri argues. “I can figure shit out for myself.”

“It’s just a simple question. Zip up or pullover?”

Yuri scoffs his annoyance, but still grumbles, “Zip up. They’re easier to pull on and off.”

“Thought so.”

JJ sounds far too cheerful, so Yuri says, with as much disdain as he can muster, “You’re a fucking dumbass.”

“You’re not wrong,” JJ agrees. “I do plan on being pretty dumb tonight.”

“Doing what?”

“Tomorrow’s my off day. I figured I might as well go out and get wasted.”

Yuri is unsurprised, but ultimately annoyed by the response, and then further irritated by the fact that it makes him feel anything at all.

“So I’ll let you go then,” JJ says. His voice acquires a teasing edge when he adds, “Unless there’s anything else you need me for.”

“I don’t need you for anything,” Yuri counters. “You just happened to be around to talk when I wanted to talk to someone.”

“Right.” JJ’s disbelief is palpable. “Well, if you ever feel the need again, you have my number.”

“Against my will.”

“Yeah, you keep implying that, but you also keep responding.”

Yuri huffs but can’t seem to dredge up the level of frustration necessary to sound impatient when he says, “Fuck off.”

JJ chuckles quietly again. “Good night, Little Bit,” he says.

There’s another long pause before either of them disconnect, as JJ waits for a response that might never come, and Yuri struggles to determine how he wants to end this interaction. He could swear again, or say nothing at all. His spirits have not risen much, but his temper has settled. He feels lighter than he did before his bath.

Yuri can refuse to admit that JJ had anything to do with it all he wants. His denial won’t stop it from being true.

“Yeah,” he says, very quietly. “Night, Shithead.”

JJ has every opportunity to tease him, but doesn’t. He lingers for a moment more, long enough that Yuri knows JJ heard him, then the call ends.

Yuri lets the hand holding his phone drop into his lap. He stares at the screen, where JJ’s contact remains. For just a moment, Yuri’s thumb hovers over the call button. He catches himself before he can touch it, jolting back into awareness to lock his phone.

It’s later now that it usually is when Yuri finishes his bath. Yuri leaves his phone on the bedside table after plugging it in. Hastily, he finishes his tea and the snack he hasn’t touched yet — the fruit and chocolate Lilia’s taken to giving him recently when she’s in a particularly conciliatory mood. He grabs his hairbrush from the bathroom when he’s done, then heads downstairs with it to leave his empty mug and plate in the kitchen.

Despite the hour, he still finds Lilia in the sitting area, watching the news with Katenka in her lap. She doesn’t chide him for spending so long on the phone, simply takes his brush and begins to work the knots out of his hair once he’s seated beside her. His hair is already half dry and more of a mess than usual because of it. Lilia is methodical, but gentle all the while.

When she’s done, Yuri turns to take his brush back. Lilia uses the opportunity to tuck his hair behind his ears.

She eyes him sternly, but her voice sounds mild when she tells him, “Pack in the morning.”

“Okay,” Yuri agrees.

“Good night,” she says.

“Night.”

Yuri grabs Katenka from her since it will be a week before they return to Saint Petersburg again. With his cat cradled to his chest, Yuri makes his way back to his room, where he settles into bed and turns out the light.

There’s a part of him that still feels lost, but there’s another part of him, too, that almost feels at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!! I'm never not thrilled to receive them!!!


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